How Albus Got his Groove Back
by Not-Willing-to-Admit
Summary: Formerly The Weekend and Madame Esme. Albus Dumbledore thought that defeating Gellert was the hardest thing he had ever done. That was until a rather shy Dumbledore attempted to acquire a date for Elphias Doge's party. Postdefeat of Grindelwald Era. Slash
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Albus Dumbledore thought that defeating Gellert was the hardest thing he had ever done. That was until a rather shy Dumbledore attempted to acquire a date for Elphias Doge's party. Post-defeat of Gellert Grindelwald Era. Part 1 of 2.

**Warnings:** Mentions of AD/ED and AD/GG and a very socially Inexperienced!Dumbledore. Fluffiest of Fluff.

**A/N # 1** – _seraglio - _Italian word for the sequestered living quarters used by wives and concubines in a Turkish household.

**A/N #2** - _cortigiana onesta - _The cortigiane onesta are well-educated and worldly courtesans They were chosen on the basis of their "breeding"—social and conversational skills, intelligence, common-sense, and companionship—as well as their physical attributes. It was usually their wit and personality that set them apart. They were prostitutes in the sense that sex was one of their obligations, but unlike the average prostitute, sex constituted only a facet of the courtesan's array of services. For example, they were expected to be well-dressed and ready to engage in a variety of topics ranging from art to music to politics. (Wiki)

_**A/N # 3** - __cortigiana di lume_ – Slighty lower class than a cortigiana onesta.(Wiki)

* * *

Upon his entrance into the small nondescript building that stood on the corner of Nightingale Lane, Albus Dumbledore, Defender of the Free Wizard World was immediately greeted by a woman, who surprisingly, considering her occupation, was rather plain and dressed in sensible clothes. Her hazel green eyes were amused as though his disparaging thoughts were obvious, and he flushed. It was not his manner to be so transparent, but he was a tad bit anxious.

"We pride ourselves on substance and discretion, not flash and panache, Sir," she politely explained as she escorted him to the drawing room.

"My apologies, I did not mean to imply…" he quickly apologized.

The drawing room was exquisitely done in classical style and full of antiques. There were even assorted magical classicals scattered about for his perusal on the various end tables. The room spoke of class and elegance, of old money and cigars. It was meant to be a comfortable, soothing room, but Albus Dumbledore noticed that his knee was shaking.

There was a table set up for tea, and naturally, being a gentleman, he held out her chair for her so she could sit down.

"Thank you," she murmured in approval, and he realized that he had just passed some test of hers. He had never made use of a brothel before, and the fact that he needed to be interviewed by the Madam before he was allowed into the _seraglio_ was a trifle unnerving.

On one hand, he wasn't at the grocers picking out a melon for his dinner; he was merely attempting to attain a suitable companion for a dinner party. He couldn't understand why must the transaction be so bloody difficult? Well, least this had the hint of respectability about it, as it would be horribly gauche to be given a list of vitals stats and told to pick a stud at random.

"Don't apologize, kind Sir! Everyone, when they first walk through that door, takes one look at me and is horribly, horribly disappointed. As a Madam, they believe I should greet my customers in a see-through peignoir. That's not how I run my Gentleman's Club, Sir. We are Triple Confidentiality Bonded and our reputation is unmatched by any other establishment." Madam Esme gently reminded him. "I caterer to a certain clientele, primarily the higher social realms of our society, though I must confess to my deep surprise that a mage of your sterling reputation is interested in my services."

He said not a word; instead, he blushed, as she was quite correct. Why was he here? Couldn't he have his pick of his circle of fawning admirers from which to choose? His flustered non-response was duly observed by the Madam.

"I do wonder, and wish you'd tell me why you are in need of one of my boys. I assume with your reputation, you wouldn't have to pay for such services," Madam Esme gently prompted. "You're quite the flavour of the month."

Her hazel green eyes measured and weighed him, estimated the size of his tackle and noted that he hadn't brought his familiar with him. Madam Esme desired an answer, and she was quite prepared to sweat the answer out of him.

Oh, she would have given Gellert's Questioners a run for their Galleons, as Albus was horrified that he would have to admit so much, so soon.

"I can assure you, honored Sir, that your answers will be kept completely confidential. What happens in this room stays in this room. A mage of your caliber, noble Sir, can no doubt detect the Wards that will ensure your privacy." Her tone was polite, but there was a sense of carefully moderated outrage that he believed that his secrets were not safe with her.

"It's not that, Madam Esme. Your reputation is formidable and your reputation for discretion is unsurpassed. It is very difficult for me to reveal so much of me to a near stranger. You are quite correct; I could have my pick of willing souls. Quite frankly, I must regretfully admit that I find their keenness to physically entertain me quite nauseating and rather unsettling," Albus regretfully admitted. "Plus several of my scars from my duel are far too… unpleasant for fair-weathered souls."

"So you desire a whore?" She prompted. "Because you believe that they won't recoil in disgust due to your scarring?"

"I would like a _cortigiana onesta_," he retorted. "I'll pay for two days, upfront. I reserve the right to decline the use of his services for tomorrow if, through not fault of his own, I decide he's not the right one for tomorrow's engagement. I assure you that he will be reimbursed for tomorrow whether or not he attends."

One perfect eyebrow arched in surprise.

"Not the right one for an engagement? My gentlemen are all highly educated and quite witty, how could they fail to be suitable for this engagement of yours?" Esme questioned. "I am not aware that the Ministry is having a function tomorrow."

"It's a dinner party thrown by a friend," Albus admitted. Again, his cheeks were flame colored, and he continued. "A very dear friend and his wife are throwing a dinner party. I am the Guest of Honor, and I very much would desire not to attend it alone."

"They're aware of your particular peccadillo?" The entirely too sharp Madam pounced.

"We were… lovers…" Albus hesitantly admitted. "It's long over, but we are still good friends. His wife is aware of the reason for our fondness and is not jealous."

"How long have they been married?" was her next question.

"Six years," he answered.

"How many children do they have?"

"Leah is carrying their first, and she is due in three months. I am to be Godfather," he said with a touch of pride. "It is a honor, and it speaks well of Leah that she suggested me."

Esme drank her tea in silence, and then delicately nibbled on a biscuit.

"What are your interests besides defeating Dark Lords?" That was her next verbal volley. "Tell me _**everything**_. What's your current occupation?"

"I'm currently working at Hogwarts as an instructor. I'm fascinated by knitting patterns. I enjoy ten-pin bowling though I've not mastered it, and I enjoy chamber music. I have two tickets to a concert tonight, if he's willing to attend."

He wondered if he should open his mouth so she could see that he still possessed all his own teeth, but no doubt the sharp-eyed Madam Esme had observed that plus the small thinning patch in his graying auburn hair. Albus had worn his best clothes for his interview, but he wondered if he had been smart to leave Fawkes at home. Right now, Albus could use his familiar's emotional support as truly this ordeal was rather harrowing and quite unnerving.

"What composers are featured at the concert tonight?"

It was a genteel question, but what was her reason for asking? To continue the bitter pretense that this was merely a polite conversation over a tea?

"It's a mixture of Schubert, Beethoven, Robert and Clara Schumann, and a few others," he informed her. "It's an early concert, so I thought dinner afterwards? I'm not sure what one plans….for an evening such as this? I was pondering if chocolates or flowers would be amiss for a token when we meet?" Albus frowned and shook his head. "Probably, woefully inappropriate. I understand that traditionally I am to present him with a token, but what does one give a _cortigiana onesta?_"

"You're doing exceedingly well so far, as you grasped that reality that this is a date, not just a grope fest," she assured him. "Trysting Tokens are usually delivered several days after your date. He'll respond back with either a delicate suggestion for more interaction or else he'll just graciously thank you for your token, which is a polite way of saying you can no longer hire him. You take it from there, and you can decide if you wish to hire him again. Physical features? Any preferences?"

"My only preference is…." Albus closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, thinking of the two men he had once loved. Only one's appearance caused him physical pain whenever he thought he saw HIM out of the corner of his eye. "I would prefer that he not be a green eyed, blonde with curly hair. If it is at all possible, I would be most grateful."

"The husband is a green eyed blonde or the wife?"

"Neither, he was a brunette, but he's salt and pepper now. Blue eyes, as for Leah? She changes the color of her hair quite often, but her eyes are light green. I believe her hair color is currently… Mumbai Mahogany?" Albus questioned.

"Malcolm," Emse decided. "I think Malcolm St. Rhys would be perfect for you. He's steady, reassuring and a shameless tease, but don't worry, he'll only be flirting with you. You don't mind if your courtesan is a little thick?"

"Mentally slow?" Albus questioned. "I was hoping more for a _cortigiana onesta _than a_ cortigiana di lume_. I'm a little lonely, and I was hoping that the gentleman was someone with whom I could converse, on any subject rather than the Great and Glorious Battle. That subject is completely off-limits. I talk about it enough, and I wish not to even think about it this weekend._"_

"No, his build. Malcolm has a little bit of a tummy, not too much, but some insist on an Adonis or a Ganymedes," she explained. "He's quite well turned-out and exceedingly witty. Well versed in all classical subjects and he's quite fond of chamber music. Malcolm is quite the intellectual and will be able to keep his wits in a conversation with you."

"I'm not much of a looker," Albus admitted. "I wouldn't expect an Adonis to grace my arm."

"Very well, Malcolm it will be. Now, the delicate part of our transaction," Esme murmured.

"I have brought the necessary funds…"

Necessary funds had been nearly half his yearly salary at Hogwarts, but it would be worth it, and more, not to appear as a pathetically lonely gay boy at the festivities.

She turned a delicate shade of pink, and energetically began fanning herself with a fan that she had Transfigured from a fork. It didn't take the genius that Albus was to realize that he had just made a gigantic faux pas. Social niceties of the upper crust were completely beyond him.

"Please, friends do not speak of monetary remuneration," she gently chastised him.

He bit his lip, and she quietly closed her fan, having made a miraculous recovery from her near swoon.

"You put it in the silver bowl on the table before you depart," she whispered.

He quickly looked, saw the silver bowl in question and he nodded.

"You need to fill out the questionnaire. It asks some personal questions and that way Malcolm will be able to ensure that you enjoy yourself. After you complete the questionnaire, you can leave. You will go to the address on the survey at three this afternoon, and you'll meet Malcolm then. I think you two will hit it off splendidly."

"Questionnaire?" Albus repeated. He disbelieved that he had heard her correctly. "I have to complete a survey?"

"Sometimes, I find that people are shy about voicing their expectations. An appraisal of what you wish from the experience seems the best way to prevent awkward conversations and misunderstandings. A happy customer will return to visit again, and since we're now friends, I truly hope to see you again. When you're done with the survey, it will appear in my office, where I will discuss it with Malcolm. Remember, I assure you on complete confidentiality."

The madam nodded once and then left the room, closing the door behind her in order for Albus to have complete privacy in filing out his survey.

Hesitantly, he put on his half-moon spectacles to complete the survey. Since he had turned sixty or so, his eyesight wasn't as keen as it once was, and he had been too vain to wear them during the interview.

"Do I like watersports?" He questioned. "What does swimming have to do with this madness?"

* * *

Madam Esme had been running her Gentleman's Club for nigh onto forty years, and never had an answered questionnaire filled her with such horror. The potential for something to go horrifically wrong was quite high.

His answer to "Do you like watersports?" had been a rather perplexing, "I prefer the breaststroke when swimming," and the answers had gotten steadily worse.

She decided a wee dram might be helpful in settling her nerves, and when that failed to do anything, she had two more in rapid succession. Malcolm St. Rhys entered her office, and wisely, seeing the rarely used bottle of medicinal comfort was still in use, sat down quietly. Being a successful _cortigiana onesta _required discretion and a keen eye for detail. Now, would not be a good time to interrupt Madam Esme's self-medication.

Malcolm was in his mid-sixties with short cropped midnight black hair long gone to a pleasing salt and pepper. His eyes were a pleasant sky blue and sparkled with intelligence. He was taller than most and the fact that he possessed a slight paunch mattered not at all to him. In other words, he was normally a man comfortable with who and what he was. But Emse's irregular behavior was making him a tad anxious.

"Malcolm, I have a new client for you, and I would plead with you that you use kid gloves with this gentleman," she finally said after her fourth wee dram. "It will be very bad if he's not completely satisfied with our Club. I fear to rouse his temper by displeasing him. I could easily imagine him annihilating the Club if he is not chuffed with his experience."

"Come now, he can't be that bad if you've gotten him this far in the vetting process. Who is he? Bloody Albus Dumbledore?" Malcolm cheekily commented. "He might want to wipe out London if we really irk him."

The squeak that was produced by the normally composed Madam Esme was answer enough for Malcolm.

"Give me the bottle, Esme," he protested. He was not a man to panic easily or find solace in drink, but this was a very special occasion.

"It's mine, all _**mine**_, you can't have it," she retorted, clutching her liquid comfort to her chest, much like a mother protecting her babe. "Besides, you're Hired for the next fifty two hours, Malcolm. You can only drink with your client."

"Are you sure that one of the pretty boys might not be more his style?" Malcolm intently questioned. "He's rather cosmopolitan. How about Bryce? He's a sweet looking boy, got a nice mouth and he's extremely flexible. Bryce is quite good shape, while I've got my paunch. You're always ragging me on it, claims it cuts down on my profitability."

"No, Malcolm, Bryce doesn't have the skills needed for this," Esme explained.

"He's your Top Rated Courtesan among the upper echelon. Cancel his contracts and send him on to Dumbledore," Malcolm insisted. "You can't send me to Dumbledore! I know my strengths…. He'll want somebody limber which I'm not. As you are well aware, my top Customer Satisfaction Surveys are from…the shy little gay boys…"

Malcolm's jaw dropped and he put his hand to his aching head.

"He's… _**not**_?" Malcolm whispered in a mock horrified tone. "Then why is he hiring a bloody whore? There are probably easily ten thousand men and woman willing to make a man out of him! What does he need a bloody whore? Why me?"

"We do NOT use that term here, Malcolm," retorted Esme. "We also don't use that LANGUAGE here! Your client wishes to hire a suitable companion for forty eight hours. Tonight, he'll take you to a chamber music concert and then dinner. If you are compatible, he'll take you to a party tomorrow. The party is in his honor, and it's being thrown by his former married lover and his pregnant wife."

"He desires Arm Candy to show his former lover that he's moved on from their relationship. I'm most assuredly **_not _**Arm Candy," protested Malcolm. "That's Alwyn. How about Gareth? He's bemoaning the fact that he doesn't work enough. You were even saying last week that he needs to start pulling more business or he's out in the street."

"He doesn't want Arm Candy, he wants companionship and he desires someone suitable he can present to his former lover. I've got less than four hours to get you cleaned up as you're meeting him at three."

"Give me the questionnaire," roughly ordered Malcolm, as he was, pardon the pun, the consummate professional. "Plus give me his file."

"Malcolm, be gentle with him. He was wondering if he should bring you flowers when he meets you, so don't _**laugh**_. Whatever you do, if you want to live through this, please, do not disparage him."

"Flowers?" Malcolm flashed a winning smile as he was practicing his surprise for when he received his flowers. "That's really a quite sweet gesture. I don't usually get flowers from my patrons."

* * *

Albus Dumbledore glanced at the mirror, and he straightened his suit. A rather nervous looking mage with graying shoulder length hair and a trim beard stared back at him.

"Albus, please, a dash of color, I beg of you," pleaded his reflection. "We look so hopelessly… _**heterosexual**_!"

Originally, he had debated on wearing his plum suit, but he had decided to go with his black ensemble. While he was gay, he didn't wish to appear like a complete flaming homosexual. That meant his favorite pair of high heeled buckled boots was in his wardrobe, and he was wearing a sensible pair of oxfords.

"Fawkes? Do I look like an undertaker?" He questioned his familiar. "Perhaps? A splash of color might not go amiss? A bold scarf perhaps?"

Fawkes chirped his agreement, but Albus wasn't too sure about Fawke's fashion sense. He was a Phoenix, after all, a creature well known for being a might ostentatious. His familiar caught that thought and he hissed, sparking his annoyance at Albus. He wildly flew about Albus' quarters, silently saying, _"See if I ever give you any more fashion hints, you big, bloody poof",_ angry sparks flying off his feathered tail, and Albus sat down on his bed.

"Fawkes, please. I can't go to tomorrow's night party without someone on my arm. It will be utterly humiliating to show up and have Elphias and Leah realize that I haven't had a bloody date in close to forty years. I can't believe that I'm hiring a courtesan!"

He put his head on his hands, and he prayed for strength. The Defeater of the Dark Lord Gellert was terrified as he was meeting a whore in twenty minutes and he didn't have a bloody pressie. Fawkes landed on his shoulder and gently nuzzled his beard. In his beak, there was a nicely patterned scarf. Not too flashy, but it did have a dash of color that matched Albus' necktie.

"Sorry," Albus whispered as he took the token of apology and Fawkes chirped his own apology. "Shall we be off? Perhaps I can think of something to give him between here and there."

Fawkes again gently questioned his mage on whether or not he should be chaperoning the two mages, but Albus pointedly reminded him that he wished for his familiar's opinion on the courtesan.

"Plus, with you on my shoulder, I'm less likely to decide to decide to cancel," Albus shakily confessed. "Though he might like two days off with pay."

* * *

Minerva McGongall, Head Girl of Hogwarts was hiding in a window sill. The reason why she was hiding was because she was reading a book of _**poetry**_.

Shakespeare's Love Sonnets.

"Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, so do our minutes hasten to their end," she read out loud.

With a loud snap to show her disgust, she closed the book. "I should never have taken Muggle Studies. I can't stand poetry. I'll never get an O on my N.E.W.T. if I can't understand this bloody sonnet."

"Come now, Miss McGongall, you should show more respect for the Bard. Each changing place with that which goes before, in sequent toil all forwards do contend," quoted Professor Dumbledore. "Sonnet Sixty, I believe?"

He sat down next to her on the window sill, and shook his head. "Show more respect to the Bard, Miss McGonagall."

"I _**just**_ don't understand it." She wailed her frustration.

He tried not to smile at her irritation, but he knew he failed.

"You need to think metaphorically. Sonnet Sixty is about time. Like waves crashing ceaselessly on the beach, the minutes of our lives tick down. Each wave replaces the one before in a never-ending action, ever onward. Try reading it again, and focus on the fact that it's dealing with time and how relentless it is. After all, it's Sonnet Sixty and there are sixty minutes in an hour, unless you're using a Time Turner," Dumbledore advised his favorite student.

"Thank you, Professor Dumbledore. Forgive me for being cheeky, but I think the firsties will be even more enamored of you if they see you dressed like this." Her green eyes narrowed and then she pounced. "I know you're not scheduled for this weekend and you have Headmaster Dippet overseeing your Lions. Are you sneaking out for a date?"

She knew what his sexual preferences were, and didn't care a wink.

"Miss McGonagall, as Head Girl, you are entrusted with much responsibility at this school. But I don't think overseeing my social life is part of your burdensome tasks."

Minerva McGonagall smiled at him, and leaned toward him. "Good luck, Professor. Have fun, you deserve it," she whispered. "Nervous?"

He grimaced a smile which was answer enough for the empathetic Minerva. But talking with the Head Girl had given him an idea. "Fawkes? Do you know the book of which I'm thinking? Could you bring it to me?"

Within moments, Fawkes was back with Walt Whitman's _Leaves of Grass_.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N # 1: I have Minerva, Tom Riddle graduating in 1946. In my mind's eye, Albus defeated Gellert around VE day (May 7, 1945) so this story is taking place in late September, early October 1945 or so.

A/N # 2 – Well not 2 of 2, looks like 2 of more than 2 parts. Not so fluffy any more. (Glares at Albus)

A/N # 3 - AD/ED, AD/GG and AD/MOC? Maybe?

* * *

Hiring a whore was a very bad decision, and it signified a profound character flaw that Albus needed to examine in the bright light of day.

_**Not**_ underneath the covers of a stranger's bed.

Employing a courtesan had been the very last thing on his mind when he had received the blank parchment via the Owl Post. Albus had been intrigued as the parchment hadn't been the typical garishly decorated, excessively gilded and heavily perfumed missives that filled his post these days so he had turned the blank sheet of paper over to further examine it. An elegant script slowly appeared under his gaze, inviting Albus to a private tête-à-tête with Esmeralda Windsor. Even a reticent gay boy like Albus knew THAT Esmeralda Windsor, better known as Madam Esme, a very notorious harlot.

If Armando Dippet had any inkling of this correspondence ,inviting Albus to peruse Emse's vast stable of courtesans for one that might intrigue and tanatalize him, Albus would have been bounced from his job, post-haste. It was bad enough for the blinkered Dippet that Albus was of the robe-lifting persuasion but Dippet's bigoted mind was full of lurid fantasies where a licentious and morally depraved Albus was likely to molest not only the Giant Squid but any impressionable boy that might accidentally lean over his desk.

This hadn't been Albus' first invitation to a whore house since the entire Gellert incident, but it was by far the most genteel. The first dozen or so that had arrived had the apparently mandatory pictures of the various bits and bobs of nearly naked women. He had admired the pictures much like an art critic admires Cubism but doesn't truly understand it. The women, while exquisitely posed and quite eager to please him, didn't cause his blood to burn.

Then the shocking invitations with the images of the lovely boys who were only questionably above the age of consent besides absolutely starkers began to arrived in mass one day. The men had been creatures of such angelic beauty, endowed with such mythical proportions that it had proven necessary for him to take to his bed in a near swoon. He had even canceled his classes for the remainder of the week as he just couldn't, couldn't, _**couldn't**_ face any of his students, not with those images fresh in his mind. Some of those models had looked all of _**fourteen**_ years of age and he had been sickened and appalled.

He was a homosexual; his sexual preferences did not mean he was a _**paedo**_!

Now such invitations, when they were recognized, were immediately cast into the floo and Incendio'd.

This discreet invitation to partake in illicit, carnal temptation had arrived on a day when his spirits had been particularly low.

But there was no particular reason why his mood was glum. It had been a day that had started off much like any other, in a lifetime full of such days.

He had once more unsuccessfully attempted to assist Myrtle Mahoney, the murdered Ravenclaw, to the astral plane, but the ghost had steadfastly refused, insisting on merrily splashing him with toilet water while she moaned and wailed about her ignominy of her death. Then Hagrid had stopped by to visit him. The young man… boy, really, though he towered above Albus, dreadfully missed his father, and had been in a frightful state and in the need of much consolation. Hagrid's grief relieved, but Albus' wounds regarding his family had been ripped open anew, Galatea Merrythought had added to his general miserable outlook by confirming his dark fears that she was debating retiring at the end of the school year. Her egress would leave him without his closest friend and confidant at the school.

His sexuality had never been such a bloody big deal until Dippet had become Headmaster as Phineas Black had just completely and utterly ignored any hints. But Dippet… the narrow-minded, blinkered prig was convinced that Albus Dumbledore was merrily sleeping his way through the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team, the first string and the reserves! Albus' reputation as a Lothario was quite comical, as Albus had been celibate as a monk since he was eighteen.

The only bonds of affection he had were with the few people he considered friends.

He had once held weak hopes for friendship for the newest member of the Hogwarts faculty. The wizard had arrived just that September, but the homophobic Armando Dippet had sternly informed him that he was to stay far, far away from Filius Flitwick. Flitwick was a Dueling Champion, a man's man, and Dueling Champions were notoriously conservative and quick to find offense, so Albus' simple greeting might be misunderstood as a pick up line. Normally, he would have protested Dippet's woolheadedness, and gone out of his way to be friendly with Master Flitwick but Albus was too tired to fight that particular battle.

A general malaise had become his near constant companion since May and he no longer fought to keep his personal Dementor of Depression at bay. No, instead he had opened the doors wide to his heart and he let the monster merrily gorge.

And Albus had looked into Tom Riddle's eyes during one of his classes and Albus had sensed something eerily familiar that had frightened him to his very core.

**_No, Merlin, not again._**

**_Not so soon._**

Could there not be peace for a little while? There were children anxious to be born, could not they arrive in a world at peace?

Even his private animagus lessons with Minerva McGonagall, formerly a highlight of his day, failed to brighten his mood, as he had realized anew that she would be graduating shortly. Albus had known that she was a seventh year, but he hadn't accepted what it truly meant. He'd be alone then, except for Fawkes, and the dark thought of spending the next fifty years at Hogwarts without so much as the benefit of someone who merely saw him as Albus Dumbledore had been straw that had broken the gryphon's back.

He desperately needed to be just Albus Dumbledore, else he'd go absolutely, positively astray in his head. Just Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Not Albus the Gay Assistant Headmaster who needed to be closely watched so nothing improper occurred, not the Bloody Savior of the Magical World who turned water into wine and walked on water as few of his parlor tricks.

It wasn't as though he wanted the world, he merely wanted a bloody game of ten-pin bowling.

A mage from America had introduced it to him when he been in at a conference in the States, and it was an utterly fascinating game! It was surprisingly therapeutic, knocking down the pins that represented the various stressors in his life. But there could be nothing more pitiable than an old gay wand bowling by himself on a Saturday night.

Maybe, maybe he could convince Galatea that she'd enjoy an evening of ten-pin in the Great Hall of Hogwarts. The idea was quickly dismissed as Albus remembered that the witch's hip was bothering her enough to make her desire retirement.

Maybe… maybe he could return to his quarters, read the latest Potions periodical and then call it an early night. There was grading to be done, but he could skip a night as there would be still more grading to be done tomorrow. There would be grading in his pathetic, lonely life for the next fifty odd years.

There had been extensive Charm Work on the parchment, because as he pondered those dark thoughts, of his need for companionship, of the gaping wound in his soul, the advertisement had changed. It began speaking directly to his exhausted soul.

_Are you fatigued from the crowds' clamoring adoration? Do you long for the simplest of pleasures, does your skin hunger to be touched? Do you long to lay down your burdens, forget your pain and sorrows? Do you desperately want to remember what it feels like to be human? Have you forgotten what it is like to have a conversation with someone who truly sees you as yourself?_

Madam Esme's service boasted of being Triple Bonded and Confidentiality Assured with Sexual Satisfaction Guaranteed Irregardless of One's Experience Level plus there had been a bolded, underlined declaration that all of Esme's courtesans were certified by the Courtesan Guild to be a minimum of three years above the age of consent.

The decision made, he had quickly posted a barely decipherable response of "_When can we meet_?"

But, yes, this almost ranked as bad a decision as the one he had made on a fateful day when he had introduced himself to a feral, haughty, _**magnificent**_ blonde with the most amazing green eyes. Everything had soon gone directly to hell and had stayed there for the next forty odd years. After he had defeated Gellert, Albus had naively believed that there was a light at the end of the tunnel, but in the five months since that Great and Glorious Battle, he realized that the hoped-for-light was actually a belching Chinese Fireball Dragon with a bad case of gas.

Ariana was still dead and, barring a miracle where someone handed him a frayed, threadbare cloak and a legendary rock, Ariana and his parents would continue to remain dead.

His brother still loathed him but now the caustic Aberforth deemed it proper and correct to address Albus as "My Brilliant Brother, the Bloody Hero of the Bloody Realm", the "Far-too-late Conquering Hero" or "The Imminent Minister of Magic".

_**Huzzah!**_

Fawkes nuzzled his cheek and attempted to cheer him. Without thinking, Albus stroked his feathery familiar and he was rewarded with a comforting croon from the Phoenix. He would go mad without Fawkes, and yet, he feared that only madness lay ahead in his future.

"I'm only doing this so Elphias and Leah stop haranguing me," he told his familiar who had patiently listened to this explanation some three dozen times but who still managed to listen attentively. "If I show up at the party with a gentlemanly companion, they won't feel the need to discuss how I feel after putting Gellert in jail. This will prove to them that I'm perfectly fine with it, and they can put their focus back where it needs to be directed; Leah and her precious cargo."

_But you're not fine_, Fawkes gently reminded him. _You're lonely and you're missing the physical closeness you experienced with Elphias now more than ever. I wish I could do more for you. I can't hold you. I can't touch you but I would, if I could._

"Yes, I'm rather maudlin. I want to be touched by another human being, and if I pay someone to do it, at least I know why they're fondling my carcass. They're not doing it because I'm the Bloody Savior of Humanity but because I bloody paid them good coin to do so. But a courtesan, Fawkes? I know that I answered those questions wrong on the questionnaire."

_They were utterly barmy questions, Albus._ _Do you enjoy role playing? You're the Assistant Headmaster of Hogwarts, not a thespian! _

"Maybe he'll have pity on me and decide that I'm charity case. Do his good deed. I hope we don't try…" Albus shivered as he tried not to remember what Gellert insisted that they try and he, being a lovelorn fool, had eagerly agreed. The results had been painful and… and… bloody hell, they were on the questionnaire as though some people found them… pleasurable. "I hope that since I'm giving him a king's ransom for his time that he won't laugh at me. I simply can not believe the amount of Galleons that Madam Esme demanded for her service."

_You put down on the questionnaire that you didn't want to try them again. I'm sure he won't do it then. If he does, well, I'll leave him a lasting memento by which to remember me. Plus you can always Hex him. Madam Esme's Gentlemen's Club has a sterling reputation and they've been in business since before the turn of the century. I doubt you're their first nervous client._

"Do you think the Walt Whitman is a good idea?" Albus softly questioned. "He's not even a British Muggle poet. He's from the Colonies."

'_Stranger! If you, passing, meet me, and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me? And why should I not speak to you?' That page is heavily worn, so he'll know it's a favorite of yours. He'll understand then. Plus, I think the pink roses are lovely, so you can't just drop them in the alley. _

The man universally declared to be the most eligible bachelor wizard in the world by _The Daily Prophet, The Salem Witchateer, The Muscovy Mage Press _among countless other periodicals was in a state of near panic. He hadn't been this flustered since the day his nerves had finally cracked and he had plaintively requested a Hogwarts House Elf to handle his mail. Anything, just so long as he'd stop opening missives consisting of ladies' unmentionables combined with illicit proposals. He flushed scarlet, thinking of the strange trophies the fairer sex had sent him. The knickers, he understood, but the paddles? The whip? The leather collar?

The ninety eight or so silk scarves he had received, he had gifted to an appreciative Fawkes who had made productive use of them. The Phoenix had created several bright and colorful nests. Due to the surplus of silk, there was a silken nest in his classroom, one in his office, three or so in his private chambers, and Fawkes was now energetically building a new nest for Albus' bedroom, though the Phoenix usually slept in Albus' bed.

"Fawkes, if this doesn't work out, I beg you…. we won't ever speak of this humiliation again, please."

The Phoenix gently tugged at his mage's ear and then nuzzled Albus' beard.

"Very well, we're here. I hope I don't make an utter fool of myself."

But he had the sinking feeling that he would as he was Clueless Charlie when it came to social interactions.

* * *

Malcolm St. Rhys looked at the clock and slowly exhaled. No matter what he did, time would continue to march onward, much like the crashing of waves on the shore. Steady, implacable and relentless, and the implacable force of nature known as Albus Dumbledore would soon be on his doorstep.

He had been in the profession for forty odd years, and it was the rare client who caused him anxiety. Albus Dumbledore was one such rare client. The results of the questionnaire had been exceptionally… unique… thanks to Albus' literal interpretation of the questions.

_Least I won't have to worry about the damn ruffles in the Little Bo Beep costume as he doesn't know what role playing really is. The bloody ruffles are damn ticklish around my privates plus those sheep get a little bold. _

In Malcolm's professional estimation, the legendary Albus Dumbledore was a lonely man-child who desperately longed for physical closeness but who utterly lacked the positive experiences in his youth to make him more assertive in seeking it. Far too many of the questions had been left blank, and more horrifically for Malcolm, several of the more basic interactions had been marked as absolute refusals. The reasons for declining them had been in a barely legible "find them v. painful".

Malcolm morosely predicted that his weekend would consist only of hand holding and snogging the most powerful mage known in all of recorded history. While he'd do his level best to ensure that an inhibited Dumbledore enjoyed himself, the mage _**was**_ paying a significant amount of money for two days of very little foreplay and a great deal of conversation.

There was a soft chime, which let him know that his client was in the lobby, and he quickly examined himself in the mirror. Was the one button on his waistcoat a little too tight? He inhaled, decided that he truly needed to listen to Esme's dire predictions on his waist line affecting his bottom line, and the courtesan promptly vowed that he'd start a serious exercise regime soon.

Next week, perhaps, or the week afterward. Perhaps, when he came back from vacation?

"You look delicious," his reflection cheerfully informed him. "He'll want to gobble you up."

"You're completely biased, love, but thank you," he assured his mirror image.

He double checked his buttons, zippers and profile. His tie was straight, and his jacket was hanging neatly on the hook.

There was a knock on the door, and he took a deep breath.

"You're on!" He reminded himself.

* * *

For a moment, Albus had debated turning tail and running like the coward he was, but Fawkes had firmly warned him that he would do no such thing.

_I can't do this, Fawkes. I should just admit everything to Leah and Elphias. I haven't had a date this bloody century! I'm absolutely stinking miserable!_

_You'll do no such thing! They need to focus on their little one right now. If Elphias knows how despondent you are, he'll try to cheer you. Leah was very understanding and compassionate about what once existed between you two. You don't want her jealous, especially now when she's having their son in three months._

_I can't lose their friendships, Fawkes. They mean the very world to me. They see me as Albus, and I need that so badly._

The door slowly opened.

"H-h-hello, these are f-f-for you." Albus stuttered. Dumbledore knew he was blushing and then he pushed the bouquet of pink roses at the startled man who answered the door. Too late, he realized the strong possibly that the man who he had just assaulted with a dozen long stemmed roses might not be Malcolm St. Rhys. "Are…y-you… Malcolm?"

Albus Dumbledore wasn't sure what to expect, but Malcolm St. Rhys wasn't at all what he anticipated. Was the courtesan supposed to answer his own door? Bloody hell, he hadn't just given roses to the butler, had he?

The victim of an assault by a floral arrangement flashed Albus a winning smile. "Yes, I am Malcolm, and these roses are simply beautiful. I rarely get flowers from my patrons, and they are never this lovely color. They are _**exquisite**_. Thank you."

"I wasn't sure…." Albus nervously admitted. He felt the faintest tickle of a bead of sweat on his forehead, felt it slowly slide down his cheek and down his neck.

His damn necktie was too tight as he simply couldn't breathe!

"Flowers are always highly esteemed, especially since it appears you picked them yourself. You can come in," the other mage offered. When Albus didn't immediately follow him into the room, Malcolm self-deprecatingly shook his head. "Obviously, I'm not what you're expecting. No doubt, you were hoping for someone prettier?"

"No, I wouldn't say that," Albus protested. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth.

First of all, St. Rhys wasn't particularly handsome which was surprising to Albus considering how much coin Albus was spending on this assignation. Definitely not gorgeous, but St. Rhys had a kind face. He had salt and pepper hair and he had crow's feet and laugh lines on his face. Slightly taller than Albus, the older mage's build wasn't particularly thick, though there was a slight softness in his midsection that made the courtesan appealing rather than threatening.

All in all, his appearance didn't scream, "Hired Pretty Boy Whore for Desperate Wizards" and for that alone, Albus was most grateful. No, Malcolm appeared to be a proud, card carrying member of the _intelligentsia_. So, yes, it could seem quite possible to someone that didn't know Albus that Malcolm was Albus' friend.

Malcolm stepped further into his office, and he turned round when he realized that Albus still hadn't stepped over his threshold.

"Our introduction has gone all pear-shaped, so let us start anew. You must be Albus Dumbledore, and that glorious creature riding your shoulder must be Fawkes. I am Malcolm St. Rhys, and please come in, come in. I prepared a perch for Fawkes just in case he decided to visit this weekend," Malcolm said. "I wasn't sure if he'd honor me with his presence, but I wished to be prepared. I researched, and I understand that Phoenixes like cracked corn and millet, plus I had some fish expressly prepared for him. Scottish Smoked Salmon, Fawkes? I had it sent in special for you. It was swimming yesterday, and smoked last night."_  
_

_Like him! Like him! Can we keep him? There's fresh fruit near the perch also. Must we give him back after this weekend? _Fawkes eagerly questioned.

_Hush, Fawkes. We can't keep him!_

"We've got several hours before the concert starts, so I figured we can relax, get to know each other, and we can discuss your expectations for this weekend," stated Malcolm. "Come in, hang up your jacket and take a seat in the loveseat. I want to look at you when we talk, so I can make sure you're comfortable. I'll be right back after I put these flowers into a vase and pour the champagne."

Albus continued to stare at Malcolm and Malcolm gestured to an s-shaped piece of furniture. It was of burnished mahogany and it had hunter green pillows. Funny, Albus never realized before how much a loveseat looked like a snake.

"Please… sit there."

* * *

Albus nervously sat in the loveseat, dismayed at how close Malcolm's seat was to his. He really didn't know was expected of him as the client, should he make idle chat? Wasn't it Malcolm's responsibility to be witty and bright? Was now the time that Albus present his catalog of sexual demands, his small list of do's and his Quidditch Pitch length of don'ts?

**_Do kiss me. Do hold me. Talk to me. Don't laugh at my inexperience. That's all I truly want. _**

No, instead he kept mute and examined the drawing room. Neat and sparse, almost to a fault, it revealed very little of the mage's personality who lived… worked… there. There was a couch, a few armchairs, end tables and the loveseat. There was a single orchid on the table and a small clock on the mantle that softly ticked-tocked.

A few landscapes were hung on the wall, there were a dozen or so candles lit, and there was a phonograph softly playing, "Air on the G String".

He didn't recognize the paintings, so the most he'd be able to offer would be "Pretty landscape", and really, while he enjoyed "Air", one couldn't be seriously expected to intelligently discuss it for three hours.

Adding to his emotional unease with the current situation was how quickly he was abandoned by Fawkes. The Phoenix was currently greedily and messily devouring the smoked Salmon. When he had battled Gellert, the stawlart Fawkes had remained with him, determined to fight until the very end. But now, now, Albus had been cast aside like a worn out shoe because the Phoenix was gorging himself on dried fish.

_It's NOT dried fish, Albus, it's Scottish Smoked Salmon, Albus! Not just smoked Salmon but smoked Scottish Salmon! Would you like a piece to tide you over? It's wonderful! Wonderful!_

_I won't let you attend the concert if you insist on making such a frightful scene._

Fawkes paused in mid-swallow, the fish tail dangling out of his beak.

Albus felt a great deal of sympathy for the fish, as he imagined that they had both experienced the same level of entrapment. _  
_

_**YOU**__** PROMISED**__! You said I could listen to the music! You __**promised**__ that if I was on my best behavior for a week, you'd let me go out in public with you. You never let me go out with you anymore, Albus, and you __**promised**__! I didn't buzz Dippet for a whole week! I even let that homesick Hufflepuff firstie pet me! She wept all over my feathers, Albus! I couldn't fly straight for two days!_

_Fawkes, best behavior? Remember? That means eating your fish politely rather than impersonating a starving, ravenous Pelican._

The Phoenix gulped down the fish, and then began to daintily nibble at a piece of melon from the fruit platter.

Fawkes beseechingly looked at Albus, hoping that the magnanimous Albus would once again allow him to attend the concert. Since the Episode with Gellert, Albus had only taken Fawkes out in public once and it had turned into a near riot in Hogsmeade as everyone had wanted to touch the heroic Fawkes, legendary Phoenix. This time, Albus was prepared, and Fawkes was willing to suffer the indignity of a Glamour so that they could attend the concert together.

_**Better?**__ Aren't I the best behaved familiar any mage has ever had? Wouldn't I look dapper on your shoulder while we listen to the music? I know only you will be able to see me, but won't you be proud to have me on your shoulder? You will let me go, won't you? Won't you? __**Please**__?_

"May I give Fawkes some strawberry champagne?" Malcolm questioned. He was carrying a tray and there were three flutes of champagne complete with strawberry slices, and a variable feast of finger foods.

Fawkes looked hopefully at Albus, and Albus nodded his head. "I don't think a flute of champagne for Fawkes would be amiss."

_Yes, you can go to the concert._ _ You know I can't refuse you anything, Fawkes. But please, try not to gulp your food! Malcolm will believe that I starve you!_

Malcolm placed the tray on a small table, and he poured the champagne and strawberries in a clean water bowl and placed it next to Fawkes.

"Wait for the toast," he told the Phoenix who appeared quite ready to dive into the bowl.

Fawkes nodded his understanding and Malcolm smiled. He then handed a champagne flute to Albus and said not a word when Albus' hand badly shook, nearly causing the drink to spill.

"To a weekend full of new magical experiences," Malcolm toasted and Albus chorused his agreement. The two men clicked their glasses and they drank.

Malcolm gracefully sat down and then he revealed that he was holding a small book in his hand. It was Walt Whitman's _**Leaves of Grass**_ and Albus blushed. The book! He thought he still had it!

"This was with the flowers, I wasn't sure if you wished me to have it," Malcolm confessed. "It appears that it's your personal copy."

"I had hoped that you might like it," Albus nervously admitted. "I should have brought you a new copy, but it was a spur of the moment idea. I should have had the forethought to pick up a new one."

He reached to take back the small volume, and Malcolm shook his head.

"No, I'm quite honored to have your personal copy. First, you give me flowers that you picked yourself and now you graciously grant me words that have given you solace, Albus. Kingly gifts, Albus, for a man not used to such consideration."

"It's only a book of poems," Albus softly protested.

"My clients oftentimes attempt to impress me with expensive gifts, but I am partial to personal gifts, especially if a great deal of thought has been put into them. It's obvious that you have, plus I'm quite fond of Whitman. 'I sit and look out upon all the sorrows of the world, and upon all oppression and shame; I hear secret convulsive sobs from young men, at anguish with themselves, remorseful after deeds done'," Malcolm quoted. "You've got such lovely blue eyes, Albus, yet they're so sad. Are you remorseful for deeds done?"

Albus said not a word, and Malcolm let him keep his secrets.

"'Stranger! If you, passing, meet me, and desire to speak to me, why should you not speak to me? And why should I not speak to you?'," St. Rhys softly quoted Whitman. "I am Bonded to Secrecy. What happens between us stays between us, as I can not reveal anything of our encounter. Madam Esme will only involve herself if I am Cursed, Hexed and otherwise Harmed. Why did you hire me, Albus Dumbledore?"

"I… I…" Albus stuttered. Fawkes flew to his mage and began lovingly nuzzling him to soothe his agitation. Albus began stroking the Phoenix and he could say nothing more.

_Talk to him, Albus!  
_

The _cortigiana onesta _reached for Albus' free hand and he gently held it.

"May I say the reasons why I believe you hired me?" Malcolm gently questioned. "I hope you won't be upset with my honesty. It's one of my many faults."

Albus nodded his head in agreement.

"I believe that you are weary of isolation," Malcolm softly stated. "You desire closeness but you can't be absolutely sure if the keen-eyed admirer who so energetically courts you truly sees you as yourself or as the Hero of Legends. You doubt that you're still capable of correctly judging people because of a past trauma. You were, in all probability, quite young when it happened, and it has haunted you all these years. Plus, you're troubled by the nagging thought that if you do get physically close with someone that they will laugh at your innocence. You decided to come here because you felt that this would be a professional transaction. You'd know exactly why I was touching you and you hoped that I wouldn't negatively comment on your innocence. "

Albus closed his eyes and regretfully nodded his head.

"Did he physically hurt you when you two had sex?" The _cortingiana onesta's_ voice was soft and free from censure.

Albus refused to answer, and Malcolm began to gently stroke Albus' hand.

"Come now, please be honest with me. I need to know this," St. Rhys explained. "I fear that I know the answer to my question due to your reticence. He harmed you, didn't he?"

"Wasn't intentional… I'm _**sure**_ of it…but we tried a few times, and… it never quite felt the way he said it should. Since then, I haven't been that particularly interested in sexual intimacy. You know, it's supposedly such a wonderful experience, but I never found it to be so," Albus whispered.

"How did you find the experience?"

Albus turned away from Malcolm and stared at the wall

"Awkward and messy, embarrassing," whispered Albus. "Painful, too. But he assured me that it was the way it was between men."

"If you're a gorilla, perhaps, but most assuredly, it is not the way between men. Fortunately for you, I am quite skilled in such matters and I will reassure you that I am exceedingly protective towards my clients. I won't hurt you, Albus. Now, this gorilla? Is he the gentleman that's throwing the party for you?" was the next question.

"No, no," Albus quickly protested. "The party's just brought everything to the forefront of my mind. Elphias and I were school sweethearts. We broke up as I became unwisely infatuated with that other individual. It took time for us to become friendly once again, but time wounds all heels, as the saying goes, and I believe that since I displayed sufficient remorse for my actions that Elphias… he was willing to forgive me my inadequacies. We couldn't go back to the way it had been between us, but he munificently agreed it was possible for us to still be friends. I _**deeply **_treasure his friendship."

"Elphias is married now?" prompted Malcolm.

"Yes, Elphias married his wife a few years ago, and I was the Best Man at the wedding. They are over the moon as they're having a child, and… I'm the bloody Guest of Honor at this party…that I do not deserve."

"There are many that would believe that you're being overly modest," was the quiet retort.

"I don't deserve it. I defeated Gellert Grindelwald, I have all these honors and awards which means absolutely nothing as they are just pieces of color paper. I'll show up at their party and I'll be alone. I'll see the compassion in their eyes because they'll both know… that the façade I show the world is all a show… as I'm desperately lonely. I fear to dampen their joy with my melancholy presence. I should never have agreed to attend the party, but they've been insisting on having it. They wore me down until I finally agreed."

They sat in silence until Albus composed himself and then Malcolm gently kissed Albus' hand. He carefully buzzed each finger with his lips, and then he put Albus' hand on his chest.

"I will not laugh at your supposed inexperience," the _cortigiana onesta _vowed."I swear on my wand that I will not. You have not had pleasant experiences, so naturally you are wary about putting yourself in such a position again."

"Thank you," Albus whispered and Fawkes chirped his appreciation.

"My office, if you will, has two bedrooms. If you prefer, I will not share your bed." St. Rhys chuckled at Albus' shocked expression. "Not all of my clients desire sex, Albus. Some want companionship and a non-judgmental ear. You're not my first client that has come to me loved scarred and wand-shy. More champagne?"

"That would be nice," Albus decided after a long pause. He admitted, "My flute seems to be empty, Fawkes must have drunk it all."

His glass was refilled and Albus shakily smiled at Malcolm.

"You're surprisingly easy to talk to," Albus admitted. "Something in the champagne?"

Malcolm inelegantly snorted. "I'm a professional, Albus. Drugging the champagne is something a tyro would attempt, not realizing that most calming potions would react badly with the bubbles and create a frothy mess. I injected the strawberries before I sliced them for the champagne. Used a silver blade so the acid doesn't react with the sugar."

Albus was close to angrily protesting when he realized that Malcolm was jesting.

"You are a tease, aren't you?" Albus questioned.

* * *

He had entirely too much champagne, as Albus rarely drank. Never-the-less he was rather tense, so his common sense went out the window. He had finished his fourth glass, enjoying the mellow feeling in his belly when he realized that Malcolm was leaning towards him. Their lips awkwardly met, and then Albus instinctively pulled away.

His cheeks were flamed colored and he looked away from the mage, focusing instead on the orchid. Oh, the horrors, blushing like a nervous teenager because Malcolm had attempted to snog him.

_**In case you're forgotten, Hero of the Bloody Realm, snogging is exactly why you're paying him! You marked it on their bloody questionnaire that you wanted bloody snogging!**_

"Champagne and strawberry are one of my favorite types of kisses," Malcolm softly explained. "I couldn't resist, but I think I caught you unaware. I'm sorry. You just looked like you could use a kiss."

Malcolm grinned and rubbed Albus' back. His blue eyes narrowed in concern.

"You're quite stressed, and your muscles are like rock. Will you let me massage you after the concert?"

Massaging would mean touching, which Albus craved, but it might lead to other things… which he most assuredly did not want.

"Can I interest you in a game of ten-pin bowling instead?" Albus softly questioned.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N # 1 – Well not 2 of 2, looks like 2 of more than 2 parts. Possibly 5 parts? Not so fluffy any more. My noble attempt at writing a short, fluffy piece was sabotaged by a certain character. (Glares at Albus)

A/N # 2 - AD/ED, AD/GG and AD/MOC? Maybe?

A/N # 3 – the sated sigh is dedicated to my beta, MM. You'll know why. (And it's not _**that**_ reason you dirty little minded souls. :D )

* * *

Dumbledore wanted a quick game of ten-pin bowling? Malcolm rummaged through his brain, thinking of every risqué word, every double entendre, each delicate euphemism and every single example of sexual wordplay he knew to no avail.

_**Ten-pin bowling? Is that a roundabout way of informing me he'd like to have sex now? His body language isn't saying that, but… he's bloody hard to read.**_

__"It's a Muggle game," Albus quickly explained.

"Really, I'm not familiar with it," slowly admitted Malcolm. "Would you care to explain the rules to me?"

For the first time that afternoon, Malcolm witnessed Albus' face light up. No longer did the younger mage appear world-weary and melancholy. No, now Albus Dumbledore appeared _**enthused, **_and the passion easily erased several decades' worth of care from his face. His blue eyes even twinkled merrily.

It was a damn shame that Albus was more stirred by throwing a seven kilogram rubber ball at ten wooden pins than by a session of therapeutic snogging. For if there was ever a mage that needed to be snogged into blissful exhaustion, it was Albus Dumbledore.

* * *

"I just find it very relaxing; I just hope one day to master the game now that I understand the scoring system. It's surprisingly complex, not even figuring out the dozen uses for dragon blood was as difficult as comprehending the scoring system." Albus then went on in great detail about such arcane things such as frames, strikes and spares. His voice slowed and then he grimaced an awkward smile. "Thank you for listening. I'm sure that you have little interest in ten-pin bowling."

"Your interests are mine," Malcolm quietly reassured Albus. "I found your explanation of the game quite fascinating."

The courtesan did sound interested, but Albus' face fell, and he shook his head. His previous enthusiasm was replaced by a dark despondency.

"Don't, _**please**_," he plaintively pleaded. "You don't have to act as if you're really interested in my ramblings. I'd much prefer if you _**didn't**_ sham. I get that fakeness all the time, and I'm weary of it. I need frankness and honesty from someone, Malcolm, and I'm bloody paying you a king's ransom… to provide me with what I want. If I wanted a bloody arse kisser, I could have my pick of them… I want you to be honest and sincere with me. If I bloody bore you with my conversations, you are to tell me. I didn't hire you for the sex, Malcolm; you were hired to be my companion for tonight and possibly tomorrow."

"I _**was**_ interested," protested Malcolm. "For the first time since we met, your eyes lit up and you were passionate and animated. You weren't weighed down by sorrow and you weren't ill at ease with me or my profession. So, yes, I was fascinated by how such a mundane seeing game brought you such pleasure. Plus, I truly do enjoy learning about new topics and specialties as I was a Ravenclaw when I attended Hogwarts. It's one of the perks of my profession that I'm in close contact with knowledgeable and cultured souls such as you."

The two men stared at each other and then Malcolm quirked a quick smile.

"And if you want honesty from me, I'll give it to you, Albus. I think that you desperately need to be snogged, and I'm planning that before we go to the concert that I will snog you until you're breathless and your head is spinning," Malcolm calmly promised. "And I also believe that you're quite delectable when you blush. Your ingenuousness is a rather endearing trait of yours, you know, at such odds with your formidable reputation and it makes me feel exceptionally protective of you. I must remember not to cause you to color so prettily at the concert; else you'll be swamped by admirers determined to shelter you."

Albus blushed, and he whispered, "_**Delectable**_? Are you sure you're not confusing me with a trifle?"

"Tasty, scrumptious, delicious, mouth-watering and luscious. That's you, Albus, and you're _**all**_ mine," Malcolm possessively growled. Then he quickly grinned and shook his head. "Oh, Albus, don't look at me like that. You're not a virgin sacrifice. I'm not planning on slathering you with jam and cream and then devouring you. While it would be quite fun, my mattress would be quite sticky."

Dumbledore was terribly, terribly flustered by the very idea of being covered with raspberry jam and he knew that he was blushing most dreadfully. Madam Esme _**had**_ warned Albus that Malcolm was a terrible, terrible tease, but… he hadn't realize how truly frighteningly and yet delightfully wicked Malcom was. He struggled to look at Malcolm, but he couldn't.

"You look so horribly traumatized, Albus! Madam Esme should have warned you that I'm _**wicked**_."

He wasn't traumatized; no Albus was far from it. All Albus could think about was being turned into a very large Eton Mess, covered with strawberries, meringue and cream. It was truly obscene, he had no idea where that depraved, iniquitous thought had come from, but he felt a warm tingle in his belly at the very idea that Malcolm's mouth would be _**everywhere**_….

There was a soft chime and Malcolm dramatically sighed.

"Post," he explained. "It must be terribly important. Be right back or should I give you sufficient time to compose yourself?"

"You're wicked," protested Albus.

"I've heard that said," Malcolm admitted. "Usually it is said with a quite sated sigh."

* * *

Albus decided to check on Fawkes. That was the _**only**_ reason why he decided to remove himself from the loveseat. It certainly wasn't because he wished to regain his composure. The Phoenix nestled with him, rubbing his beak against Albus' face, and the Phoenix approvingly chirped.

_Everything is going splendidly!_ _Will you and Malcolm be mating this evening? You should fix your hair so it looks nice. Potential mates __**notice**__ plumage and you don't want to look scruffy.  
_

As Albus' bond mate and familiar, he took his responsibility very seriously, so it was to be expected that a concerned Fawkes began to vigorously yet affectionately preen a very gobsmacked Albus. Fawkes wanted to ensure that Albus was well turned-out in order to attract Malcolm's sexual interest while Albus feared that Fawkes would accidentally straighten his crooked nose in his eagerness to tidy him.

_Err… Fawkes… it's a little too early to know if Malcolm and I will be… mating… this evening._ Albus timidly offered that comment to his overly enthusiastic familiar.

_Stop squirming! You'll never mate unless you look pretty! Let me tidy up your beard. Hair is so difficult to straighten, feathers are so much easier!_

_I don't think I'm particularly… pretty… Fawkes, and I highly doubt that Malcolm believes that I'm attractive. He would be the first one in all of recorded history to find me physically appealing._

_I see the way he watches you. He knows why you're here, what you want from him, and he's quite amenable to the idea. I can tell that you both wish to mate, as I can smell both your pheromones. Do mate with him, Albus. It's lonely, mating with yourself, the way you do it now. Mating with Malcolm will be quite good for you! Mating should be physical closeness between two, not just one and… you're lonelier after you mate yourself. It doesn't bring you relief, yet you still do it. _

_FAWKES! I don't bloody wank off every minute of every damn day! You should know that, as you are always there… when I… I… solitary… mate._

That had been an emotionally traumatic moment. He thought he had a few moments of privacy as his newly bonded Fawkes had been busy hunting in the Forbidden Forest for a snack, so he… had attempted to give himself some relief… and Fawkes had returned post-haste to his quarters, catching him in mid-wank. The Phoenix was an innocent, one of God's creatures, not cursed with the knowledge of Good and Evil that had sent Adam and Eve fleeing from the Garden, so he found nothing shameful in what Albus was doing. No, instead, he had sat on Albus' bedpost until Albus had… resolved the issue and he was clean and presentable once more. Fawkes had then nestled on his chest so the two could doze together in post-coital bliss.

_Are you angry with me? _Fawkes timidly questioned. The Phoenix then put his head under his wing, and retreated into himself, intent on making himself as small and chick like as physically possible. _You know that I enjoy sharing __**everything**__ with you as you're my wizard. I like sharing how it feels to fly with you… _

Albus began gently stroking his trembling familiar, and attempted to reassure the distressed Fawkes.

_No, no, __**never **__could I be mad with you. You just have to remember that particular matter is rather intimate and private for me… and your obsessive fascination with it continues to unnerve me. Please, forgive me, Fawkes. I didn't mean to upset you, you're __**everything**__ to me. You know that._

Carefully, Dumbledore cradled Fawkes against his chest until Fawkes was calmer. The Phoenix rubbed his face against Albus' cheek in silent apology.

_I just don't comprehend why you solitary mate, and I wish I did. I understand your need for physical release, but it doesn't bring you happiness. You think it's shameful and it just makes you melancholy. You want to mate, but yet you told him that's not why you're here. I don't understand. You should be honest with him._

_Fawkes, it's just not that simple. I made the grievous mistake of… mating… with someone who was completely unsuitable. I deeply wounded Elphias with my infidelity and… my sister died because of my arrogance… and… stupidity. My brother rarely talks to me because of what happened. I __**make**__ colossal mistakes, Fawkes, and I hope that you being here will prevent me from making another. Thank you for agreeing to meet him._

_Naturally I'd want to meet him. My first time Burning, you stayed with me, and I wasn't scared at all, because you were there to keep me safe. Now tonight, don't fret! I'll stay with you while you mate. You don't need to be anxious as I'll be here._

Fawkes began to make soft crooning noises, comforting sounds suitable for a frightened nestling, and yes, he began to straighten Albus' hair once more as Fawkes thought it looked quite the fright.

_You're…? You're…. __**staying**__? I don't know if Malcolm will want an audience during our… mating…._

_I promise you that when you mate with Malcolm, I'll be there. Malcolm will understand why I'm there because you're my mage and I'm your familiar… You wanted me to meet Malcolm so I could let you know what I thought of him. I'll need to be there for the mating as my opinion depends on how he treats you during the mating and how you feel afterwards. If he makes you feel dirty or ashamed, then I will be quite vexed. But I believe that he understands how you feel and he will make your mating __**wonderful**__ for you. _

He was surprised when he felt Malcolm placed his hand on the small of his back.

"You're blushing _**again**_, Albus. Were you and Fawkes having a naughty chat? Fawkes? Mind if I steal him away for just a brief moment?" Malcolm politely requested. "There have been some minor changes in our plans for this evening, so I just wish for your approval, Albus."

"Is there a problem?" Albus questioned while he gave Fawkes a final caress. The Phoenix flew to his perch where he could keep an eye on his mage.

"No, no, not a problem. Just an upgrade apparently," Malcolm explained. Carefully, he guided Albus to the couch and the two men sat down.

First thing Albus noticed was that it was a rather tight squeeze, as their legs were touching and then… then… Malcolm deliberately put his arm around Albus.

"Much better," Malcolm sighed in delight. "It seems Madam Esme had decided to call in some favors owed. Would you be horribly disappointed if we had a private box for tonight's concert? It seems that Esme was dreadfully worried that the seats you had chosen might not be as private as you might wish."

"They were the best I could afford," Albus admitted. "Plus they didn't have any box seats available."

"They're _**wonderful**_ seats," quickly assured the courtesan. "Excellent line of sight and the sound is superb. Madam Esme was worried that you might get swamped by admirers and she knows you want a nice, quiet evening. She spoke to William Weasley about your predicament, and Bill acquired Morgan Moody's box seats for you. The Moodys are not utilizing the seats as his wife just dutifully presented him with baby Alastor. Since the Minister of Magic isn't a big fan of concert music, she was also delighted to volunteer hers so you could have use of it, but Bill and Esme thought it best not to put you there. It's a nicer setup than Moody's, but the rumors would start that you want Tessie's job."

"I don't desire the position of Minister of Magic," Albus protested. He kept saying it, and people would not listen. He couldn't handle the responsibility as he knew bloody well that he couldn't be trusted with power. "I'm content to be a teacher, but I'll be glad for the luxury and privacy of Moody's box seats. I must remember to thank William and Morgan for the seats."

William Arthur Weasley was on the Board of Governor for Hogwarts as was Morgan Moody. Albus was rather partial to William, as Weasley had managed to thwart Dippet's attempts at removing Albus from the staff of Hogwarts. Weasley had intervened because of his appreciation of how Albus had handled a certain sensitive situation involving William's quarreling sons, Septimus and Bilius. As for Moody, Albus didn't know Morgan Moody at all, as he was a rather reticent man, but he seemed to be part of Weasley's Hogwarts crowd and voted accordingly.

"Bill is throwing a party after the concert, so he sent you an invitation. He says that he knows that you don't normally do the social circuit, but it would be pleasant to see you at his party," Malcolm explained.

It was remarkably hard for Albus to coherently think, with Malcolm's arm around his shoulder, especially as Malcolm's fingers were busy caressing his face and playing with his beard, but something caught Albus' mind.

"Bill? You call William Weasley, _**Bill**_? And Minister Theresa Vance is fondly known as Tessie?" Albus exclaimed.

"I don't fondly call that old battleaxe, Tessie," retorted Malcolm. "But do you wish to accept the use of Moody's box seats? All the box seats have their views and their sound quality magically enhanced. Plus, the three of us wouldn't have to worry about being interrupted by your hordes of admiring fans. Privacy would be nice."

Malcolm turned to smile at him, and then he put his free hand on Albus' inner thigh. It was just a fleeting touch, but it seemed magical as the sensation of delighted anticipation utterly overwhelmed Albus. He couldn't help but stare at Malcolm, and the courtesan noticed Albus' gaze.

"Do I have something in my teeth? Is that why you're staring at me?" Malcolm quipped.

"No, no, no, I was wondering… if I might ask you to kiss me," Albus softly questioned. He flushed, as he was being dreadfully bold.

Thankfully, Fawkes kept his running mental commentary to himself and Malcolm didn't tease Albus, no, instead he smiled.

"I think that I would quite enjoy giving you a proper kiss. Don't move," Malcolm requested. Carefully, reverently, he cupped Albus' face in his hands. "Close your eyes."

Albus did so, and he pondered if he should keep his mouth closed or opened.

Inwardly, he was shivering in delighted anticipation. It was akin to how he felt picking out his first wand at Ollivander's.

Malcolm didn't wait for him to figure out what to do, as he felt Malcolm's lips brush against his cheek first. Then Malcolm's lips touched his.

_Oh._

Kissing was better than warm, fuzzy socks for cold feet on a chilly night.

It was an almost liquid warmth that quickly spread through his body, melting away all his worries and concerns about his inadequacies. Malcolm's lips were still closed and Albus wondered if he was expected to do more on his end. Hesitantly, Albus opened his mouth and he deliberately touched Malcolm's lips with his tongue.

_Ohhh. Very, very nice._

Emboldened, Albus continued to kiss Malcolm, growing more assertive, until Malcolm pulled away. He tenderly stroked Albus' face before he gently tapped Albus' crooked nose in admonishment.

"You're going _**too**_ fast, Albus. You need to savor this experience," he instructed. He sat back in the couch and he began to tease and tantalize Albus' neck with lazy fingers. "Now, as I was saying, you were invited to the Weasley party, and then there was another invitation. The LeStranges, the Blacks and the Malfoys are having a party, and anyone who is anyone will be there. Bill can't compete with their parties, so he'll understand if you wish to go to that one. Tessie must have told them that you were coming out into society tonight because Esmeralda and Bill wouldn't have mentioned it. Which festivity do you want to attend?"

Malcolm's left hand was still lazily massaging his neck, sending shivers and tingles down Albus' back into his belly and creating a rather monumental response elsewhere. Carefully, Albus shifted his hands just slightly in order to preserve a modicum of decorum.

"Don't hide it like it's something shameful, Albus," Malcolm softly chided him. The courtesan placed his right hand on Albus' hands. "'Tis a grand thing, Albus, a wonderful thing. It needs to cherished, shared and enjoyed, not concealed."

"You told me not to rush," a flustered Albus protested.

"Feelings of delightful anticipation and heightened desire are completely different from mindlessly ripping off our clothes and having painful gorilla sex on the settee. I pledge to you that I will **_not _**rip my off shirt, pound on my chest, grunt and then have rough gorilla sex with you. So, which party do you want to attend?" questioned Malcolm, who seemed to be quite content to drive Albus around the bend and back again.

"I'm not very comfortable at parties. I only attend parties only if I must, and I'd prefer not to attend either," Albus admitted.

"Either Bill's party or Malfoy's," Malcolm stated. "If you don't attend either, you'll have snubbed both of them, and I do not believe that they'll be particularly chuffed."

"Do you have a preference?" Albus questioned. St. Rhys _**must**_ have a first choice.

"I don't have a choice," answered the courtesan. "What party you attend, I will go. Naturally, I will be standing three steps behind you to ensure that I am close enough so I may bask in your reflected glory, yet not close enough for me to forget my status."

"You won't stand next to me when I attend the Weasley Party?" Albus nervously questioned.

Somehow, he had made the decision to attend one of these horrid gatherings, and his stomach began to roil. Appearing in public with a bloody courtesan, a male courtesan, he might as well strip naked and pose for The Daily Prophet's Page 3. Come Monday morning, Armando Dippet would be doing backflips in the Great Hall. There would be an Emergency Meeting of the Governors on Monday morning and his sexual preference would once more be the matter of conversation.

Yet, he wouldn't go to tomorrow's party looking the sad sack. If he appeared with Malcolm at their party, Leah and Elphias wouldn't have to be concerned about him, and they could focus on their little one. Therefore, he'd attend the damn party and deal with Monday morning when it came.

"I'm not particularly good with social events. I'm collectively awkward and backward in public, Malcolm. I can't make small talk," shakily protested Albus. "I'd much rather go the concert, perhaps dinner and then come back here."

Malcolm said not a word.

Bloody, bloody, bloody hell. Couldn't Malcolm see that Albus wasn't any good at social get-togethers? He was almost sixty five years old; he had been celibate for almost fifty bloody years and was quite close to being in virginal condition. Weren't they big enough hints regarding his social shortcomings? Must Albus spell it out for him?

"I think it would be delightful to have you to myself. I don't want to share you with anyone," asserted a desperate Albus. "Perhaps, we could just skip the concert and just stay here?"

"I must warn Madam Esme that you've charm enough to lure the birds out of the sky. Never fear, I'll be with you and I can help you with the chin wagging required. You need to start reading the social columns," Malcolm sagely explained. "You need to learn the political and social currents of our world, for there are those nefarious souls that will use you if you are unwary."

"I don't want to be involved with politics," Albus insisted.

"Whether you like it or not, you _**are**_ involved. Now, I know it's terribly gauche to use Fawkes as an messenger bird, but I'd suggest that you utilize him to respond back to Bill's party invitation. It will significantly increase William's social standing if you send Fawkes with your acceptance to his invitation. You will also need to send an Owl to Lestrange, advising him that you most truly regret declining his invitation but that you had already agreed to William's invitation. Slip in your regrets a pointed reminder that Bill's on the Board of Governors for your school, that you're the Assistant Headmaster and that propriety and your job security demands that you attend Bill's party. Let me get ink, parchment and a quill for you."

* * *

"Am I going to the right party?" questioned Albus after the missives had been posted to their respective parties. "I don't particularly care for the LeStranges and their cronies."

Malcolm nodded his head. "LeStrange's parties have an unsavory reputation. The Weasleys don't have the money they once did, thanks to Bill's father, but the Weasleys are good stock. Plus Bilius is homosexual, so the fact that there will be various same sex pairings attending will be discreetly ignored. William Weasley is a force to be reckoned with when his family honor is impugned."

"You know about Bilius?" Albus softly questioned. Dumbledore remembered all too well the frantic student who had desperately attempted to seduce him one spring afternoon. Bilius' seduction effort had been raw and painful, a young man's attempt to come to terms with what society believed to be deviant behavior. Fortunately, Fawkes had been there to help him keep his emotional equilibrium when Bilius had kissed him.

It had only been one sweet kiss, and a very long, heartfelt conversation between the two of them, in which Albus had reassured the troubled Weasley that he wasn't abnormal, peculiar, strange or morally twisted. It was the much-needed conversation with a trusted mentor that Albus had never once had the good fortune to have. He had muddled through their dialogue as best he could, struggling to be both reassuring and _**paternal**_. Bilius had been such a conflagration of teenage hormones that Albus had feared that he might give the under-aged Bilius the wrong idea about their supposed relationship. They had ended their conversation with a hearty handshake and a firm understanding that Bilius could talk to Albus _**in his office**_ anytime. Plus, Bilius had been reassured that if there had been any more friction between Bilius and his brother regarding this personal matter, Albus would intervene.  
_  
Elphias was lucky to find Leah as she healed him of those horrible notions of shame and embarrassment. If you had only someone you could have confided in when you were Bilius' age, things would be different. That sense of disgrace would be replaced by the understanding that mating is an astonishing experience, full of tenderness and closeness._

_More importantly, Fawkes, if I hadn't let my hormones run merrily amuck, Ariana wouldn't have died in a three way magical brawl._

Fawkes sent him a wave of such loving support that it nearly did him in. He had to blink to prevent the tears from falling from his eyes.

"Albus?" The sharp-eyed Malcolm questioned. "You seem… sad."

Albus forced a cheery smile on his face, and shook his head. "I'm sorry; you said you knew about Bilius?"

"I'm not supposed to admit this, but he was a former client," explained Malcolm. "Good dancer, but since he was a Seeker, they're usually pretty nimble. Since I'm taller, I led, plus I do have a bit of a take charge personality. Most men prefer to lead when dancing, so two men dancing together can sometimes lead to abused toes, which in turn lead to a fist-fight and the waving of wands."

"Men dance together?" Albus questioned. "How remarkable, and there's no public outcry?"

"Yes, men dance together, and well, it's usually at a private club." Malcolm said. "Do you dance?"

"Not at all well," regretfully admitted Albus. "Not sure where exactly to put my hands."

Malcolm looked at the clock and then smiled. "We've got time before the concert. Shall I teach you how to dance? Something simple? Like a waltz? I'll teach you how to lead that way you can dance with your female professors at Hogwarts."

* * *

"Very well, face me," Malcolm explained. "Now place your right hand on my waist, slightly around my back and extend your left hand to your side with your elbow bent and your palm raised facing me."

Albus did so, and Malcolm grabbed Albus' right hand and positioned it securely on Malcolm's waist.

"You can touch me, you know. If you get too forward and I am in true fear of my virtue remaining intact, I'll let you know," quipped Malcolm. "Now I'll loosely grasp your left hand, and I'll put my left hand on your right shoulder. Notice my left elbow is bent. I will mirror your movements, except I'll be doing it completely backwards. The waltz has a triple beat, and on the first beat, you step forward on your left foot, and I'll step backwards on my right. Very well, shall we begin?"

It took some time, but they managed a decent waltz. They twirled and whirled to the music, and the two men shared a laugh when a rather giddy Fawkes decided to it necessary to fly wildly and acrobatically around the two men.

"I'm getting dizzy," Albus admitted after a particularly non-regulation twirl. "I think Fawkes is disorientating me."

"Better slow down then," Malcolm said. He pulled Albus closer to him and he moved his hands down to Albus' waist. "Put your arms on my shoulders. Since I'm taller, I'll lead."

That done, Malcolm pulled Albus still closer to him. The two men were truly quite close, almost intimately close, and they were swaying to the music. Albus could smell Malcolm's cologne, feel the softness of his shirt and the warmth of Malcolm's body.

"This isn't a waltz," Albus whispered. "Lovely music."

"No, it's "Moonlight Serenade" by Glenn Miller. He's an American. Big Band musician, quite talented," Malcolm explained. He began to softly sing the lyrics in Albus' ears. He had a decent voice fortunately. "The stars are aglow and tonight how their light sets me dreaming. My love, do you know that your eyes are like stars brightly beaming? I bring you and sing you a Moonlight Serenade."

There might have been more lyrics to be sung, but Malcolm stopped his impromptu concert to kiss Albus.

And yes, Malcolm snogged Albus until the greatest mage of the current age was breathless and dizzy.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N # 1 – Well not 2 of 2, looks like 2 of more than 2 parts. Not so fluffy any more. My noble attempt at writing a short, fluffy piece was sabotaged by a certain character. (Glares at Albus)

A/N # 2 - AD/ED, AD/GG and AD/MOC? Maybe?

* * *

They had long ceased their slow dancing, and instead, the two men were industriously snogging as Albus seemed determined to rectify far too many snog-free decades. Malcolm then pulled away from Albus, and he slowly exhaled.

"We'll never get to the concert at this rate," the courtesan gently teased. "Since this is the first time you've used our service, it would be beneficial if I explained a few things as you lack the savoir-vivre. Come, let's sit for this."

Malcolm pulled him by his hand, and Albus followed. When Malcolm reached the couch, he turned to Albus and artlessly questioned, "Do you want to sit in my lap while we chat?"

Albus colored and Malcolm shook his head.

"Your blushing is such a turn-on," Malcolm slyly admitted. "How about this, I sit, and you can put your head in my lap."

His face was now the color of a sunburned, bald Scandinavian dropped into the middle of the Sahara Desert at high noon, Albus knew, and Malcolm deliberately sat down. St. Rhys grabbed a pillow, wrestled with it until he had beaten it into submission and then he dropped it into his lap. "There, propriety is maintained, love. Kick off your shoes, love, before you lie down."

Somehow, Albus managed to find the courage needed to walk those few steps to the couch, and position himself so that his head was resting on the pillow. Malcolm slipped his right hand into Albus' left hand, and then he began to stroke Albus' hair with his left hand.

"Now, I do know that you are horribly intelligent and what I'm telling you is quite likely gilding the lily, but it's better to be safe. In case you have your doubts, you are Albus Dumbledore, the greatest and most renowned wizard of our time and I'm Malcolm St. Rhys, a rather long-in-the-tooth courtesan, who sadly, isn't renowned for much, except for mastering the seventy two types of kisses in record time."

"_**Seventy two**_?" Albus questioned. Seventy two! He barely knew two ways of kissing!

Malcolm was continuing to stroke Albus' hair, but his right hand was now gently caressing Albus' neck and shoulder.

"Oh, there's a great many more, love. I actually documented thirty-seven different kisses that are now part of the basic courtesan curriculum, plus three dozen or so others that are in master's level. In the grand scheme of things, it's nowhere as impressive as discovering the twelve uses of dragon's blood. I must express my complete admiration over the discovery of dragon's blood as an oven cleaner."

"I only discovered that due to my brother. I told everyone that he deserved credit for it, but they always omit his name," Albus softly admitted.

Malcolm's wandering hands were now gently massaging Albus' temples.

"They shouldn't omit Aberforth's contribution," Albus softly protested. It was hard to concentrate as all he desired was to melt into a blissful ooze. Malcolm's skilled hands were easing away the omnipresent headache that had been his dedicated, steadfast companion since his battle with Gellert. "Without it, there would be only the eleven uses."

"Millions of overworked housewives are grateful to your brother's involvement, even if they don't know his name," Malcolm assured him. "Even I have used it once or twice. For example, I was making Raspberry and Mascarpone Brûlée for afters one night when it all went pearshaped. Fortunately, I had a little jigger of dragon's blood a patron had given me and my oven was like new again. I truly beleived that I'd need my wand to chisel off the burnt Mascarpone."

"He was always the sensible one of us," Albus blurted. "When he found out about the eleven uses I had discovered, he told me, 'That's bloody wonderful that dragon blood can do all those magical things, but can it do something _**useful**_ like clean a dirty oven?' So I tried it on his dirty oven, and it worked. The oven glowed by the time we were done."

The courtesan kept silent but his hands continued to massage Albus' temples.

Truly, this is heaven. To have someone who would talk to him and… touch him.

"Nobody gives him enough credit, and all his life he's been forced to live in my shadow, but he… Aberforth… he instinctively knew what was truly important. He always did," Albus softly explained. As Malcolm's hands eased Albus' tense muscles, Albus discovered that he was becoming rather chatty and revealing things that he had never told another living soul. "As I've gotten older, I admire that more and more about him."

"You should tell him," Malcolm said. His warm hands were now rubbing Albus' chest, having unbuttoned his shirt and his vest sometime earlier.

"We don't talk," was Albus' terse admission. "We've fallen out of contact some time ago, and we much prefer it that way. Our wounds are barely scabbed over and I fear that they would bleed anew if we were in contact."

"Or they might finally heal cleanly. Brothers are difficult. My half brother and I are quite the example of that," admitted Malcolm. "But, we've gotten waylaid, love. I need to tell you about the culture of courtesans."

"May I dare hope that there be examples of the one hundred and nine kisses?" Albus quipped. He was uncertain about teasing Malcolm but he was rewarded with a wide grin.

"Later," Malcolm promised. "There will be photographers from the various periodicals at the concert. Your picture will be highly sought after."

Albus hissed, and Malcolm shook his head.

"Don't tense up, you'll ruin my hard work at easing your muscular tensions," Malcolm ordered. "Esme spoke with Bill, and they came to a compromise with the periodicals. The photographers have agreed to take your picture when you arrive at the concert and there will be a few taken at Bill's soirée. If the photographers violate the prohibition, they'll be Hexed. Don't you fret, I won't be in any of the pictures."

"I'm not _**ashamed**_," Albus protested. "I would like a memento of this evening. If my picture must be taken for the periodicals, I would desire it to be a picture of the three of us, you, Fawkes and myself."

It was noble foolishness, but perhaps by coming out of the closet, maybe he could make it easier for young men who shared his inclination. Perhaps, his reputation for defeating Gellert might do some good. Would one really dare to call the defeater of a dread dark wizard a pansy? Perhaps, it was long past time for Albus to once more confront Dippet about his narrow-minded bigotry.

"Goodness, I fear your sincerity will cause _**me**_ to blush," Malcolm wryly jested. "You're the first client to ever want a picture."

"Not just a picture, Fawkes desires that we keep you and take you home to Hogwarts," admitted Albus. That comment plus Fawkes' happy chirp of agreement seemed to startle Malcolm as he _**dimpled**_.

"Well, the problem is, I don't really exist. My father's wife has ensured that my existence has been expunged, and the periodicals fear to piss off my dear half-brother by printing my picture in the society columns. It's a sad, sad story. The bastard son got the wit, the charm, the extreme intelligence and the dashing good looks while the legitimate heir got the family name and fortune," Malcolm drawled. "Bill's announced Septimus' engagement to Cedrella Black, so his party tonight is in honor of that. You show up, take a few pictures with 'Ella and everyone will be happy. There are a few mares from Esme's stable that will be escorts at the party tonight, so I'll have the Daily Prophet photographer take a picture of you and one of the girls. That way, your reputation for heterosexuality is maintained."

"I thought Madam Esme ran a Gentleman's Club, not a horse stable," Albus questioned.

"Stable is the rather uncouth term for her staff. You see, she's got her mares and her stallions, some of which are studs, plus the apparently mandatory jackass by the name of Gareth. Her staff on retainer includes groomers, jockeys and trainers… oh dear, I've made you color again," Malcolm exclaimed.

Truly, Malcolm seemed fascinated in making him blush, Albus thought.

"Running a brothel seems to be far more difficult a job than I had ever dare realize," Albus admitted.

"There are a dozen or so stables. We're one of the smaller ones, so I have to admit that I'm surprised that you actually decided to try us. Actually, Esme didn't think we had a chance with you," confessed the courtesan. "I'm telling you this because some of the other stable managers will be out tonight and they'll try to convince you to try them. I believe that there was a significant amount of galleons being bet on which club you'd choose."

Albus shuddered.

"I got numerous invitations from the other brothels," he admitted. "Some of the invitations were quite explicit and … one in particular was rather… The pictures made me exceedingly uncomfortable. I kept receiving those invitations and I kept _**burning**_ them, but they still kept arriving in the post."

"Oswald," sighed Malcolm. "His stallions are all legal age but they look _**young**_. They must use Magical Enhancements to keep their pubescent looks. Oswald runs a very dodgy establishment and I believe you would have been horribly traumatized if you had selected them."

"I decided to try Esme's service as her invitation arrived on a particularly bad day. There weren't any pictures of incomparable beauties flexing and extending into unnatural positions. It was a simple invitation and it spoke to my soul. Did I long to be touched? Had I forgotten what it feels like to be human? That's why I chose Esme. Because she didn't send me silk panties or pornographic pictures but because she understood that I didn't want a bloody orgasm so much as I desired human contact. I feel so isolated, Malcolm."

"Close your eyes, Albus. Relax, let me continue to massage you," Malcolm requested. "We've got some time before we need to get dressed for the concert. But truly, you don't want an orgasm? I'll have to see if I can change your mind because I wish you to have one. Actually, I desire you to have a dozen or so by the time the weekends over. That way you can return to your instructor duties wearing the glow of a blissful, exhausted man who has been repeatedly and delightedly shagged all weekend."

Albus tensed. If Malcolm shagged like Gellert did, he wouldn't be able to _**walk**_ until Wednesday at the earliest.

"Now, now, now, I won't hurt you, love. There's other ways to shag that doesn't involve _**that**_. I'm not sure if I should be vexed or delighted with Gorilla-Man. I'm quite cross that he hurt you and scared you so badly, but I'm quite proud that I'll be the one to teach you how enjoyable sex can be." Malcolm kissed his right forefingers and then finger kissed Albus on his forehead. "Now, close your eyes and relax. Remember, anytime you wish me to stop, you just tell me, and I will do so. Now close your eyes and drift."

He closed his eyes and Fawkes began to croon. It was a soft, comforting sound. Malcolm was stroking him, his long strokes focusing on his left shoulder. He thought to warm Malcolm that his shoulder was a bit dodgy, but he was asleep before he managed to voice his concern.

* * *

"Get up, love. Well, maybe I should rephrase that as parts of you are most assuredly up. Wake up," Malcolm whispered. "You need to get tucked back in and presentable."

Albus yawned and he rubbed his eyes, not wanting to wake. Right now, his left shoulder wasn't panging him and his right sciatica wasn't wildly spasming, instead they both uncommonly well-behaved. Normally when Albus woke, he was warmly greeted by various aches, muscle spasms and an assortment of shooting pains that delightedly raced from limb to limb. Gellert hadn't pulled his wand when they had fought, and Albus still dealt with the physical consequences of Gellert's creative Hexes.

The Healers had cheerfully assured Albus that the "tenderness" would fade in time and that he just needed patience. Irregardless of their insincere platitudes about all he needed was serenity and a positive outlook to deal with the pain, Albus' aching bones still creaked and groaned like he was a mage of one hundred and twenty.

"Wakey, wakey," Malcolm ordered. "Don't make me get the ice out. I'm saving that for something special later."

"Don't want to wake," Albus softly protested. "Doesn't hurt."

Malcolm shifted beneath him, and he cradled Albus' head in his hands.

"Come on, sleeping beauty. Get up!" repeated Malcolm in a more commanding tone. "Let's sit up now."

_Wake up, Albus! We'll be __**late**__ to the concert!_

_Fawkes, can't we just stay here?_

His familiar landed on his chest and not so gently poked Albus in his chest with his beak.  
_  
You promised!_ _MUSIC! __**MUSIC**__! You said it would be better than the recordings! __**YOU PROMISED!!**_**  
**

With a little bit of Phoenixy painful prompting, Albus sat up and he stretched. He experimentally rubbed his left shoulder which was surprisingly complaint-free. Then he gingerly flexed and extended it before he wiggled his fingers.

"You really should see a Bone Healer about that shoulder. You're going to have a nasty case of shoulder impingement if the scar tissues continue to adhere," Malcolm recommended. "You also need to stand straighter, as you're not helping matters by your posture. Stooping is putting additional stress on the joint and creating more scar tissue."

"I've seen several Bone Healers and they all agree that I should cheerfully accept it, as the pain will go away eventually," Albus tersely responded. Then he noticed something rather important. "My _**belt**_?"

"I unfastened it," Malcolm shamelessly admitted. "Since you're too shy to ask, I did unbutton and unzip your trousers while you were sleeping. It wasn't for a cheap grope, though the idea was, frankly, exceedingly tempting. I massaged your right psoas major, a couple of your hip abductors and the piriformis muscle as I could tell by the way you stand that they pain you. Do you stretch at all?"

"Stretch?" Albus questioned. He turned away from Malcolm and began to tuck in his shirt. That done, he quickly zipped then buttoned his trousers.

"Stretching exercises? To keep your muscles limber?" Malcolm shook his head. "Never mind, I shouldn't have asked. Your muscles wouldn't be so tense if you stretched. I'll show you some basic stretches you should try. You know, you _**can**_ look at me when you tuck yourself in."

"How do you know so much about muscles and kinematics?" Albus questioned.

"Occupational hazards. Nothing worse than a whore with a dodgy back," Malcolm quipped.

Albus blushed and Malcolm shook his head in amusement.

"I'm ready and presentable," Albus announced after he had straightened his tie and finished buttoning his jacket. "Fawkes?"

Fawkes gracefully landed on his mage's right shoulder and then began to preen Albus' hair. Malcolm gracelessly shrugged into his jacket and he shook his head at Albus' appearance.

"With that pretty thing on your shoulder, you really should add a splash of color. A crimson waistcoast and matching necktie would be a sharp contrast to the black. Add some gold embroidery and gold buttons for some panache. Come now, this is to be a happy occasion. It's the first concert since _What I've Been Specifically Ordered Not to Mention so I Won't _occurred, and the Muggles Wars are finally over. That means people will want to have fun. You show up, looking as though you're searching for an interment, and it will certainly put a damper on things. Don't you agree with me, Fawkes?" Malcolm questioned. "Your mage should look as pretty as you do."

Fawkes being a vain creature, immediately agreed and implored Albus to heed Malcoln's fashion advice.

With both his familiar and Malcolm haranguing him, what could Albus do? But agree to change the color of his waistcoat, necktie and pocket square.

* * *

Albus watched Malcolm tidy up and Fawkes began to rather loudly comment on Malcolm. The Phoenix was quite besotted with the bloody charmer, and the five glasses of strawberry champagne the Phoenix had quaffed hadn't hurt Fawkes' estimation of Malcolm.

_He's got exquisite, broad shoulders._ _Don't you agree? Strong shoulders are quite necessary for flight, though you human don't need to worry about that. You humans insist on walking to-and-fro on the Earth, though he does seem to have a lovely ass. Nice and trim. Plus his hands seem quite nice._

_Yes, Fawkes, I've… noticed… his hands._

_I particularly like his plumage. It could be a little longer but it's still a pretty two-toned shade. Not as pretty as mine, but still, nice.  
_  
Albus made a non-committal comment._  
_  
_He was quite careful when he rubbed you while you were sleeping. He didn't touch your…_  
**  
**_**FAWKES!**_

_No, he was very vigilant about not touching __**that**__. I don't know why he was so cautious; I think you would have quite liked him to touch you there. Wouldn't you? I know you enjoy it when you touch yourself there._

_If I am to be __**groped**__, Fawkes, I would prefer to be awake._

_Malcolm said you were quite tense which is why you fell asleep during the rubbing. He assured me not to worry as I was concerned. You usually don't fall asleep that easily… ever since the Battle, it takes you hours to fall asleep and I usually have to sing you to sleep. Malcolm explained that since your muscles were so tense for so long, as you were holding all your anxiety and stress in, that once your muscles finally relaxed, you needed to sleep to get rid of the… lactic acid? I didn't really understand what he was saying. It was some sort of Muggle theory that he had read. He likes to read about strange things almost as much as you do. Do you think he learned how to rub from the Muggles? You should read on how to rub yourself as your shoulder and hip aren't paining you._

_Massage, it's called a __**massage**__, Fawkes. Not rubbing. _

_Oh. When I mate, I rub against my female before we take to the skies; that is why I called it rubbing. Rubbing is nice, Albus. I put my scent on her and she marks me with her scent. That way no one attempts to intrude in our flying. Do you think you and Malcolm will be… massaging… each other later?_

_Why do you have this obscene fascination with me having sexual relations? It's unnerving!_

Fawkes didn't answer, which made Albus nervous. If Fawkes wasn't answering, he was thinking on a response, which meant that they'd be continuing the conversation of Albus getting sexed later that evening.  
_  
I'm molting soon._

That comment was unexpected, and Albus turned a concerned eye towards Fawkes. Yes, the Phoenix wasn't looking as sharp as he normally did. But he looked no worse and no better than he should be at this time in his cycle.

_You're not scheduled to Burn for another week. Should I take you to Hogwarts? Are you early? Do you feel alright? I hope you would have told me if you were feeling poorly. I'll give our apologies to Malcolm and we can leave right now. I'm so sorry, Fawkes! I was so wrapped up in my own personal wants that I didn't realize that your cycle was off. Please, forgive me._

_No, silly. I was just thinking that since I'm rather close to the Burn, that if you gently tugged on one of my feathers, it would come out rather easily. You should present it to Malcolm. He can wear it in his pocket instead of his handkerchief. That way everyone will know that he's with you, since you humans won't rub and scent each other like Phoenixes do. I don't want any other human taking him from you. It could happen, as you're a fearful nestling and he's experienced many flights. If a randy male flew in and sighted Malcolm, he would not respect your claims to Malcolm. You two might fight over Malcolm or worse yet, Malcolm may willingly decide to go with the other male, as you haven't expressed sufficient interest in mating. You need to give Malcolm a physical sign that you wish to mate. A primary feather from your Bond Mate would satisfactorily display your carnal interest._

Fawkes began preening his feathers, and he experimentally tugged at one.

_I think this one would be perfect. It's scarlet with little gold flecks. It's two-toned, like his hair._

Albus swallowed and wondered why no one had mentioned how involved Phoenix familiars became in their mages' sex lives. Possibly because he was the only one egotistic enough to bond a Phoenix!

_Well? Are you going to tug on the feather, Albus? I can't do everything for you!_

* * *

Malcolm examined himself in his mirror, and he straightened out his charcoal grey jacket. His reflection shook his head and made a pointed dig about his waistline and Malcolm growled, scaring his reflection into behaving. He hadn't put on _**that**_ much weight. He didn't even weigh a stone more than his fighting weight, besides; his professional reputation was such where it wasn't necessary for him to work the streets, strutting his wares to obtain a client. There were his loyal clients who still requested him regardless of his semi-retired state, and Esmeralda utilized him for her clients that needed compassionate and sensitive handling.

"Love, don't scowl! It adds wrinkles!" his cowed reflection pleaded. _  
_

Albus Dumbledore appeared in the mirror, and he held a bright Phoenix feather in his hand. His familiar was perched on his shoulder, and the all-too intelligent Phoenix seemed to be wearing a rather saucy smile. The mage appeared deeply unsure, causing Malcolm to ponder again what would have happened if Albus had gone elsewhere for this particular experience.

_He would have been utterly embarrassed by the experience_. _They would have given him a dozen pretty boys, skilled beyond compare, to attend to his supposed needs. His inexperience in such delicate matters would have only further traumatized him as he'd be convinced, and rightly so, that the boys were laughing at him behind his back. No, far better that Albus be given to an old, plump whore who greatly appreciates not having to dress up as Little Bo Peep._

"Fawkes would be honored if you wore this small token of his esteem. I also would be… delighted… if you would accept it."

First the roses, then the book of poetry and now… a feather…a bloody _**Phoenix**_ feather that was being gifted to him by Albus' familiar. Malcolm had the unique sensation of not knowing what exactly to say.

His stunned silence was taken as refusal and Albus' smile faded.

"Ah… you're right. It doesn't go with your suit," Albus decided. "Silly me, I was never good with what colors go with what."

"No, no, I'm just… honored," Malcolm explained as he put his hand on Albus' wrist. "A feather from your familiar? I'm… flattered… more than you could possibly realize. Thank you, Fawkes, I am at a loss of what to say. Albus, would you be so kind as to put it my pocket for me?"

Albus did so and then Fawkes rubbed his face against Malcolm's face. Then the Phoenix chirped a comment to Albus and his mage colored.

"_**Fawkes**_," Albus whispered, so flustered that he didn't realize that he spoke out loud. "I will _**not**_ tell him what you just said. If you don't start to behave, then there will be _**no**_ music for you."

The Phoenix warbled again, and the mocking trill sounded nothing at all like an apology. From the look on Albus' face, it certainly wasn't one.

"I don't take Fawkes out in public often and he's feeling… spirited," Albus explained. "I believe that he will horribly misbehave at the concert. I should have him return to the school."

Fawkes beseechingly stared at Malcolm, obviously wanting his support in convincing Albus that the Phoenx should be granted permission to stay for the music.

"Well, so far no harm done," Malcolm stated. "A little high spirits wouldn't be amiss tonight as the first social gathering for many of us after far too many bleak years. I'm sure Fawkes will behave himself during the concert, out of respects for the musicians. Now, Albus, if you'll take my arm, it's time for us to arrive at the concert hall. I'm to take you in the side entrance so you're not seen."

He held out his right arm, and a nervous Albus took his arm.

With a silent pop, the two men and the rather raucous Phoenix Side-Along Apparated to the hall.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N # 1 – Well not 2 of 2, looks like 2 of more than 2 parts. Not so fluffy any more. My noble attempt at writing a short, fluffy piece was sabotaged by a certain character. (Glares at Albus)

A/N # 2 - AD/ED, AD/GG and AD/MOC? Maybe?

A/N # 3 - thanks to MyMadness for her editing and her snarky egg comment.

Oh yeah, don't own it, not making any money with this, and it's all JKR's characters. I'm just giving them more of a spotlight than she did.

* * *

"We're here," Malcolm announced when they arrived in the middle of nowhere. He kept his hand on Albus' arm, and he began guiding him through the dark, desolate street. The wrecked remains of the bombed buildings from the Muggle's World War was slowly being rebuilt, but it was an all together depressing sight.

"Why must there be such horror?" Albus whispered, overwhelmed by the sheer destruction. "Why can't we build a greater future? Are we doomed to repeat this again?"

"Almost there," Malcolm assured him. "Duck your head. The ceiling is a little low."

The courtesan guided Albus through the archway of a deserted building with only two walls and no roof, and then Albus blinked once. He found the two of them in a bright, cheery room that was full, far too full of people.

"Albus! You came!" was the congenial greeting from William Weasley. "You brought Fawkes! This is a rare sight."

The Hogwarts Governor extended his hand in greeting, and Albus shook it.

"I must extend my deepest appreciation to Morgan Moody for the use of his box seats," Albus quickly stated. "Thank you for your assistance."

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed that Malcolm had somehow managed to fade into the background. One had to really _**look**_ to notice the dratted man that, _**yes**_, was standing three feet behind Albus. He was chatting with two women, both of whom were probably quite pretty, if you played for that team.

"Morgan was delighted that someone could make use of them. Rhea insisted that Morgan could attend, but he didn't want to leave Rhea alone with Alastor," William explained. "Well, you're sadly familiar with my hoodlums, Bilius, Septimus and Marcus. My fondest hopes is that my grandchildren will return in spades the woes they gave me."

Each of his former students warmly spoke to him, and the exuberant Bilius gave him a quick wink that Albus prayed nobody saw. Bloody hell, what was Albus supposed to say now? After thanking William for the box seats, his well of small talk was tapped dry.

_Septimus is engaged to that Black girl, _Fawkes helpfully prompted.

"Septimus, I understand that you're engaged to Cedrella Black. Congratulations!" Albus exclaimed. Ella Black was a high-spirited girl who didn't parrot her parents' pure bloodness nonsense; still the fact that she was engaged to a Weasley was unexpected and Albus wondered how her parents had taken that bit of news. The last gossip Albus had overheard in the Staff Room was that her parents were angling for a Malfoy.

That prompted a great deal of catcalling from the Weasley brothers regarding the suitability of Septimus as a spouse, and then Bilius interrupted. "Professor Dumbledore…"

"You've graduated from Hogwarts, I must insist that you call me Albus," insisted Albus.

"Very well, Professor… Albus…, the photographers want to take your pictures. Sooner done, sooner ended," Bilius said.

Albus attempted to keep smiling as he said his goodbyes to the Weasleys, but Bilius saw through his cheerful façade to see how Albus truly felt about parading for the press.

"It's not that bad, Professor…. Albus… Just smile, let them have their pictures. Plus, Fawkes is rather camera shy, isn't he?" Bilius helpfully suggested as he escorted the unwilling victim of photographic persecution to his doom. "Especially when he's close to the Burn. You wouldn't want to stress him too badly with the camera flashes. He might spontaneously ignite."

_I would do no such thing_, Fawkes indignantly protested with an audible sniff. His mental voice was horrified over such a grave insult to Phoenix Pride. _Only a nestling would impulsively ignite because they were scared!_

_He's giving me an excuse, so we don't have to smile for the bloody cameras all evening,_ Albus explained_. I thought you wanted to listen to the music, not pose for your adoring crowds._

_Music! I want to listen to the music! One picture, maybe two, and then __**MUSIC**__!_

The Phoenix began to mentally hum a tune of which he was particularly fond. Fawkes was such a musicologist that he had taught himself how start the gramophone.

"Albus?" Bilius whispered softly so not to be overheard. "I'm sure you're a little nervous, but you're in very good hands with Malcolm. After my father and I talked about everything… like you assured me, Father quite understood. In fact, he already knew, but he hadn't said anything. It just didn't matter to him as he loved me."

Bilius was a lucky, lucky boy to have a compassionate, loving father like William. Albus had often wondered during long, sleepless nights what Percival and Kendra would have thought of their first born. Having buggered up his family responsibilities with his overwhelming narcissism and his obscene obsession with Gellert, he doubted that they would have approved of him even now.

"For my graduation, Father hired Malcolm to handle my first time. He was worried that my first experience might be with a blackguardly scoundrel… who… preyed on people like us."

Albus' stomach dropped to his knees. Was Malcolm the sexual stand-in of choice for inhibited gay boys like himself?

"Does he specialize…?" Albus softly questioned. "Will everyone guess that I'm… and we're…Is it _**that**_ obvious?"

"No, Malcolm is a Beater and a Chaser. It's also not remarkable for him to just serve as an escort, with no sex involved, for someone new to society. Father told a few of the society gossips that you two are old school chums and that you specifically invited Malcolm as your guest because he'll keep your head suitably deflated. His rapier wit is rather well known."

"Anyone who investigates will know that Malcolm and I didn't go to school together," Albus softly protested.

"Actually, you two did. He was four years ahead of you, but Malcolm St. Rhys is his nom de l'amour. He changed his given name when he went into the business," Bilius explained. "And regarding the other thing, it's _**not**_ at all obvious. I just know you well enough to know that you're uncomfortable. Have I ever apologized for throwing myself at you? I'm truly contrite that it has taken me 10 years to beg your forgiveness. I remain embarrassed by my youthful boldness. I'd like to blame it on teenage hormones, but I think my abject stupidity might be closer to the truth."

"Don't you worry about it," Albus softly reassured him. "It was the best offer I had in years."

_The sad truth of the matter was that it had been my __**only**__ offer in forty years._

"I must have traumatized you. A Sixth year _**propositioning**_ his House Head! You were always so kind to me and I fancied you so badly," confessed Bilius. "I truly don't know what came over me."

"I was flattered, horribly so," Albus lied. No need to tell Bilius the truth, that Albus had been so unnerved that he had gone to the straight-talking Galatea for reassurance that he hadn't instigated the entire state of affairs. He _**still**_ didn't know whether to be mortified or consoled over Galatea's merry response to the thought of Albus being a loquacious Lothario luring underage students into scandalous affairs. The witch hadn't been able to keep a straight face for _**months**_!

"You came to me because you needed help with the problems you were having with Septimus. But as your professor…"

"I know, but now that I'm no longer a student… and you've come… _**Out**_," Bilius then wickedly grinned. "Do you like dancing? A group of us will be having a delightful time later; you and Malcolm are more than welcomed to attend. Don't worry; it's all Fidelius Charmed so no one can admit who they saw there. I'm the Secret Keeper so I can give out invitations."

Sensing Albus' extreme reluctance, he added, "Oh, do say _**yes**_, Albus."

"I'm not sure what my plans are for this evening," Albus admitted in a feeble attempt to diplomatically dodge the invitation.

"Oi! I've just been rejected again." Bilius exclaimed in mock disappointment, hand positioned over his heart. Then the sly, all too handsome boy, yes, _**boy**_ as Bilius was a former student and therefore _**boy**_ he would forever remain in Albus' tired eyes, flashed Albus a devilish grin. "Nevertheless, I'll talk to Malcolm."

* * *

_One hundred and seventeen_ pictures were taken by The Daily Prophet photographer. Midway through the photographic maelstorm, an aggrieved Fawkes had loudly mentally debated the propriety of Burning then and there. The experience wouldn't have been quite as horrific if Albus hadn't been manhandled and propositioned by various women. Really, must they slip him a bloody Charmed House Key and whisper an address for a post-concert assignation? Albus was a Charms Master, and he knew damn well that their physical attributes were Enhanced, extremely unstable and quite likely to blow at any inopportune moment.

Plus those mindless admirers were so damn noisy, cackling like a bunch of barmy hens. Fawkes was getting more and more skittish and needing increasing amounts of consolation. Truly, a Calming Draught would have been most appreciated by them both, as they could have gone halvsies.

_It's almost over, love. _

"That's the last picture," Gregory Greengrass announced.

There were loud mutterings of disapproval from those scorned souls of insufficient social status to rate a picture with the Conquering Hero.

"Not so fast," Albus retorted to the quickly escaping photographer. He beckoned a rather reluctant Gregory closer and Albus softly whispered, "I was hoping for a picture of my old school chum, Fawkes and myself. I know you can't possibly publish it for reasons we can not politely mention in public, but I would appreciate receiving a copy. I would consider it a _**personal**_ favor."

If he was supposedly the Hero of the Day, then Albus bloody deserved to use it to his advantage. It was only a picture, nothing more.

'If I take the picture here, there will be a riot," Gregory advised him. "You've agreed to meet the musicians after the concert and there will be pictures there. I can do it then."

_I must find out for what else William Weasley has volunteered me._

"Thank you," was all Albus said.

Fawkes rubbed Albus' face and plaintively crooned. His crest was depressed, his eyes were dull and he looked… _**drab**_.

_Can we find our seats now? Too many people, all staring at us. I need some place quiet for a bit._

_Yes, I'll find our box and we can hide there. This is a bit overwhelming for me, as well._

Albus politely departed and began heading toward the stairs. Before he was halfway to the door, Malcolm joined them.

"Albus? Is the crowd too much for Fawkes? He looks… _**wilted**_," Malcolm' soft voice was quite concerned. "Let's take our seats and you can tend to him."

"It's all been a bit too much for him," Albus tersely informed Malcolm. "We're used to the controlled chaos of Hogwarts but this is far, far worse. This is utter madness!"

"Should we leave? Go some place quiet?" Malcolm asked.

_No! Music! You __**promised**__!_

"No, he's insistent about staying as he wants to hear the concert," Albus explained. "I told him that I would take him out tonight and he's holding me to my promise."

* * *

His mage made a terrible fuss. Albus stroked and crooned to him while he carefully carried Fawkes to his seat. Albus was so apprehensive over his condition that a guilty Fawkes felt sheepish, as truthfully, the Phoenix was in fine mettle. Perhaps he had overdone his wilt a smidgeon? Albus seemed determined to take him home to physic him which would NOT do! Fawkes' mage would have many more lonely nights of solitary mating if he didn't spend any quality time alone with Malcolm! Fawkes had carefully watched Malcolm while they had their photographs taken, and the man had always been surrounded by many attractive people. Therefore, Fawkes needed to remove Malcolm from all temptation.

Yes, Fawkes understood that Malcolm was 'hired' for the event, but still! Wouldn't the courtesan be more physically demonstrative with the rather anxious Albus if he was actually _**interested**_ in Albus?

It was unbelievably difficult to take of the completely clueless Albus. That man should thank his lucky stars that a conscientious, dedicated Fawkes had decided to bond with him on that fateful day. Oh, sure, the orphaned Phoenix chick had been exceedingly grateful for the mage who had rescued him from the rampaging dragon's path, but the Phoenix chickling had known even _**then**_ that Albus was in dire need for someone to keep a protective eye on him.

Fawkes had already gladly anteed up a feather to the noble cause of getting Albus into the courtesan's nest, but it appeared that Fawkes needed to redouble his efforts. His mage, while being quite intelligent and quite wonderful in many ways, as after all he _**was**_ Fawkes' mage, wasn't overly attractive or witty. It was all too likely that Malcolm's interest would gravitate to someone prettier or cleverer than Albus. Therefore a Phoenixy intervention was necessary to ensure that the two men could have some private time together.

A nervous Albus had relaxed a great deal when he had been drinking the champagne. Perchance Malcolm had more? Yes, the fizzy drink had led to a failed attempt at kissing Albus and perhaps this time, a wand-shy Albus would enjoy snogging.

But how to get his mage _**undressed**_? An understandably uneasy Albus looked so stiff and repressed in his suit. If Fakwes could convince him to remove his jacket and perhaps the vest, Malcolm would see how delectable Albus was. He was quite mateable, especially compared to other mages of his age, as Albus was still quite trim.

And eggs weren't the only things in need of laying.

_Music_, Fawkes plaintively whinged to his mage. _You promised. I'll feel much better when we get away from the crowd. Perhaps…a nap might help…I could nest in your jacket or… perhaps Malcolm has some more of that fizzy drink with the berries? I think it would help me recuperate if I had some. _

_Champagne and strawberries, Fawkes? Do you think he has some in his pocket?_

_Perhaps, he seems to be quite prepared for emergencies. It was quite tasty though, didn't you enjoy it?_

_Would you mind if I ask Malcolm to hold you for a moment? I'm taking off my jacket so you can nest in it. Then I'll put you in my lap so I can keep you close. _

Fawkes regretfully agreed.

Truly Albus was remarkably dense when it came to seductions, especially his own. Malcolm would never be interested in mating if Albus had a lapful of Phoenix!

* * *

"Would you mind holding Fawkes for just a moment?" Albus asked Malcolm after they entered the remarkably posh private box. If he wasn't so concerned about his familiar, Albus would have noticed how Morgan Moody had clearly enhanced his seats into was a cozy, romantic trysting spot. "I want to take off my jacket."

"Just tell me how to hold him," Malcolm requested.

"Hold him in your arms and don't squeeze him," Albus instructed.

Carefully, he placed the limp Phoenix in Malcolm's arms and he quickly removed his jacket. The Phoenix struggled in Malcolm's arms for just a moment and then relaxed.

_Perhaps you could unbutton your vest? That way I could nestle closer to you? Your heartbeat would be very reassuring._

_Yes! Absolutely. Are you quite sure that I shouldn't take you back to Hogwarts? You are close to Burning… I would be heartbroken if anything happened to you._

_I want to hear the music!_

_Yes, yes, I __**know**__, but you and I could always go to another concert. They're having another concert next month._

_Would Malcolm be attending with us?_

_Alas, no, I can't afford a repeat and there are no refunds on his services._

_Oh… I think I'll feel better after a little bit. I just need a little quiet._

_You sure? _

_Yes. Albus?_

_Yes?_

_Malcolm has lovely hands. He's holding me quite nicely. I think you'll quite enjoy his hands when you two mate as they're quite strong yet tender. Ah… I like being held by him. I know you will get pleasure from it also._

The Phoenix wiggled slightly in Malcolm's grip in order to prove to Albus how cuddly and snuggly Malcolm truly was.

"You're **_blushing_**, Albus," announced Malcolm.

"Fawkes," was the terse response. "He's being distinctively unhelpful."

"You two can mentally chat? Should I be concerned that you two are chin-wagging about me? Or would that be mind-wagging?" Malcolm's tone was quite droll.

"We're _**not**_," Albus stressed the negative which earned him an amused look from Malcolm.

"You are such a horrible liar," Malcolm informed him. "Plus you're _**blushing**_. AGAIN!"

"Fawkes has taken a rather obscene delight in my discomfiture and is making rather risqué comments," admitted a sheepish Albus.

"About _**us**_?" Malcolm whispered. His blue eyes were twinkling with amusement. "Does your familiar talk to you about… _**sex**_…?"

Truly, Malcolm was enjoying Albus' discomfort a bit too much.

"Yes," whispered a shamed Albus.

"Wicked, _**wicked**_ Fawkes," Malcolm cooed to the Phoenix. He then positioned the Phoenix so he could look into the Phoenix's eyes. "Don't you worry, you lovely, overprotective love bird. I'll take very good care of your mage when I bed him. You're not intending on supervising, are you? I'm sure if you ask him nicely, he'll tell you _**everything**_ as a juicy, scandalous bedtime story. I can assure you that there will be a great many kisses and at the very least, an even dozen org…"

"_**Malcolm**_!" Albus plaintively protested. "Fawkes doesn't need any instigation!"

The Phoenix and the courtesan gave him matching looks of complete innocence.

"Albus, in case you've forgotten, you were busy disrobing," Malcolm primly reminded him. "For your familiar, not for me. Oh woe, my reputation will be in shambles if anyone finds out. Fawkes, if anyone asks you, can you verify that Albus was actually undressing for me?

Fawkes chirped his agreement and Malcolm dimpled.

"Thank you, Fawkes. My reputation is my career."

* * *

Albus sat down in the couch, dimly remembering that he thought he had seen two chairs in the box when he arrived. Carefully, he placed the precious wrapped bundle of Fawkes in his lap, and he began to stroke the stricken Fawkes' crest with a delicate touch. Malcolm sat next to him on the couch, and he put his arm around Albus.

"His color is improving," Malcolm softly assured him. "His eyes are sparkling again."

Albus nodded his head in agreement as he was deep in thought.

_I worry about you. If anything happens to you, I'll lose my closest confidant. I'd be lost without you, Fawkes. I think… I think that I've been so overwhelmed by Malcolm and all that he represents, that I've quite lost sight of what's truly important.  
_

_??_

_**YOU.**__ We're returning back to Hogwarts posthaste so I can physic you there. I'll Owl Elphias and tell him that I simply can not make tomorrow's party. _

_**!! NO! I FEEL FINE! I FEEL MUCH BETTER! WE'RE NOT LEAVING! SEE! I'M MUCH BETTER.**_

__Fawkes struggled to extricate himself from his snug nest. His crest was fluffy and his eyes were bright, and he was the very picture of Phoenixy good health.

_Fawkes, you're ill! Don't stress yourself! There will be other concerts, and I assure you that we will go. This wasn't nearly as painful as I feared, so I've been needlessly fearful about attending a public event._

_No! You don't have to leave! I… I… can return to Hogwarts! I can return, and you can stay here, so you can tell me all about the concert. If you share your memories with me, it'll be like I was here!_

_You're not feeling well, so you really need me there. I'll just give my apologies to Malcolm._

… _No… you don't have to leave! I… was… shamming! I'm fine! I really am!_

_**FAWKES! What is the meaning of this? EXPLAIN YOURSELF!**_

…_You're never going to mate with Malcolm if you two aren't alone... and… I wanted to help… and I thought… if I could convince you to go to your private box… you two could be alone… so I thought if I pretended to be ill, you'd leave the crowd… I just wanted to get you and Malcolm alone!_

_**MERLIN'S BEARD!**__ We're __**NOT**__ having sex in the concert hall, Fawkes! You're my familiar, I would hope for nothing but honesty from you. I'm quite disappointed with you. I should command you back to Hogwarts as you deliberately __**lied**__ to me._

…_no… music?... but… I only wanted to __**help**__…_

"Is there a problem? You look troubled and Fawkes is trembling?" Malcolm whispered.

"Fawkes is being wicked, and I am most displeased with him. He's not unwell; he just pretended to be ill so we'd leave the crowd," explained Albus. "Go find another perch, Fawkes."

… _I'm sorry…. I just wanted you to experience joy…._

The Phoenix quickly escaped from Albus' lap and he landed on the box's railing. He tucked his head under his trembling wing and made himself as inconspicuous as a scarlet and gold magical bird could be.  
_  
_Malcolm, being a wise man, and savvy enough not to intervene between a disagreement between his mage and familiar, decided to change the subject. The courtesan hoped it was an easy question, so they could just converse until the music started. Naturally, it was not to be.

"Tomorrow's party, what gift are you bringing for your godchild?"

"Gift? I should bring a gift?" Albus nervously questioned. "I didn't think about bringing a gift. He hasn't been born yet."

"Trust me, a baby gift will get you in good with Leah," Malcolm sagely advised.

"I'm already in quite good with Leah," Albus weakly protested. "I'm to be Godfather and the honor was her idea."

"You'll get in _**better **_with Leah, if you bring a gift," explained the courtesan. "Perhaps a stuffed animal might be appropriate. Infuse it with Leah's smell, so the baby will feel safe and secure or give it a protective blessing. It's her first child, and it will mean a great deal to her especially since _**you**_ did it. You have a formidable reputation and the fact that it's a personal gift from you… Trust me, you need to do it."

They discussed it further for some time, and Albus found himself agreeing to buy a present. Truly this weekend was becoming more and more expensive as it progressed.

* * *

A rather subdued Malcolm had decided to occupy himself with a preoccupied Albus' hair rather than attempt a conversation again. His nimble fingers were entwined in Albus' shoulder length hair and he was playing with it. If Albus wasn't so vexed with Fawkes, he might well have enjoyed the experience of having his hair stroked.

Very well, he might have quite enjoyed it, if he wasn't so cross with _**himself**_ for possessing social inadequacies in such abundance, necessitating his familiar's assistance in dating. The fact that a disconsolate Fawkes was silently sniffling didn't help his mood at all.

"You've tensed up again," Malcolm whispered in his ear. "You shouldn't be aggravated that he lied to escape the crowds. He's not used to the clamor of high society."

"That isn't the reason why I'm displeased," Albus softly stated. "I'm not happy that he lied, but it's his rationale behind his untruth."

Instead of pressing him for further explanation, Malcolm said not a word. Instead, he began massaging the back of Albus' neck.

"Close your eyes and try to relax," Malcolm suggested. "There's some time before the concert starts and you're not in the proper frame of mind to enjoy it."

Tried as hard as he could, Albus couldn't calm down as Fawkes' mental presence was an orb of misery. Out of the corner of his eye, Albus saw that the despondent Phoenix kept surreptitiously peeking under his wing to look at him, desperately hoping that his beloved Albus had decided to forgive him. It would take a man with a far harder heart than Albus not to weaken.

_Love, I'm sorry for being vexed with you, but your enthrallment with all matters regarding my sexuality is truly unnerving. I know you truly desire to be helpful, but you're just increasing my anxiety. I was also quite troubled as I thought you were unwell. You know that you're everything to me, Fawkes, my trusted confidant. You're the nearest thing I have to family. _

…_I just wanted you to experience physical closeness… I wanted you to be __**happy**__! You're so sad and lonely these days, so I thought closeness would help!_

_Fawkes, it most likely won't happen. I'm grown quite … intimate… with my celibacy. While part of me wonders what it would be like with Malcolm, by far the greater component of my soul fears that he will be secretly amused by my sexual shortcomings._

… _Do you laugh at your wand shy firsties, the Muggle-born students who don't have any experience with magic? No, you're patient with them… You've __**never**__ laughed at a firstie… He __**won't**__ laugh at you. I can judge people, and he's quite compassionate. He's not a narrow-minded bigot like Dippet._

Sometimes, Albus wondered what crime he had committed to deserve a familiar like Fawkes, but now, he pondered whatever he had done right to earn Fawkes' companionship. 

_You know, you won't be able to see the musicians if you insist on keeping your head tucked under your wing. This is a night out for us, and I want you to enjoy the concert, Fawkes. Stop worrying about me. I'm not mad at you, truly I'm not. I am just disgusted with myself with being so damn clueless about dating. _

_You're a nestling, and it's understandable that you're nervous. What's __**that**__? The musicians are setting up!_

_Enjoy the concert, Fawkes. Live music is much better than the phonogram recordings._

The Phoenix carefully crept to the edge of the railing and attentively peered at the musicians, intent on not missing a single note.

"So, you two have kissed and made up?" Malcolm whispered in Albus' ear. Then deliberately, he kissed Albus' ear before he nuzzled his neck with his lips.

"Fortunately, Fawkes quite understands and forgives my faults," Albus quietly explained, before Albus abruptly realized that he was in a distinct state of dishabille. It wasn't just that he was in shirtsleeves, as he _**had**_ given up his coat for Fawkes, but his vest was unbuttoned and his tie was undone. Somehow during Albus' conversation with Fawkes, Malcolm had managed to slip one arm around Albus unnoticed, and had gotten him halfway undressed.

And he was still kissing Albus' neck!

"Don't worry, this box is privacy shielded. We could do anything here and nobody would notice as long as we're not too noisy." Malcolm assured him when he finally broke for air.

He had Fawkes' feather in his free hand and he was giving Albus a very appraising look. Then, deliberately, he took the feather and slowly traced Albus' face. It was… almost ticklish, except it most assuredly wasn't.

No, that damn feather was probably the most erotic… titillating…

"Are you?" Malcolm softly questioned.

"Am I what?" Albus no longer possessed any idea about what they were conversing. No, instead, his mind was spinning in circles and focusing on the most remarkable things. Several of his top buttons of his shirt had somehow come undone, Malcolm's amused blue eyes were quite remarkable and the feather was tracing the outline of his beard, so how the hell could Albus remember anything inane like their conversation.

"Noisy?" Malcolm intently questioned while the tip of the Phoenix feather traveled down Albus' neck. "Are you _**noisy**_, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore?"


	6. Chapter 6

A/N # 1 – Well not 2 of 2. Not so fluffy any more. My noble attempt at writing a short, fluffy piece was sabotaged by a certain character. (Glares at Albus)

A/N # 2 - AD/ED, AD/GG and AD/MOC?

Thanks to MyMadness for her help with this.

* * *

"Noisy?" Malcolm intently questioned while the tip of the Phoenix feather slowly traveled down a scarlet Albus' neck. "Are you _**noisy**_, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore?"

"No," Albus shamefully admitted.

"Quiet little church mouse, are you? Well, let me assure you that it can be great deal of fun raising the roof," Malcolm cheekily assured him. Then he turned somber and he tucked away the Phoenix feather. "You're just so serious and forlorn, Albus. Let's enjoy the concert, love, but I think it would be nice to cuddle."

St. Rhys mentally debated and then refrained from putting his arm around Albus. Seduction, not mollycoddling was what his client needed.

"I'm sorry," Albus whispered. He was sitting on the edge of couch, and he was staring straight ahead. His shoulders were slouched, his hands were in his lap, and he looked quite ill at ease.

Realizing that current situation with Albus required a delicate touch; Malcolm carefully positioned himself so he subconsciously radiated approachability and understanding. He could read body language like some men read books, and Albus' timid, close-mouth smile with barely upturned corners combined with his posture said that he was terribly interested but quite inhibited.

"Why apologize, love?" Malcolm softly questioned.

"For being a frigid, old fool," Albus morosely confessed.

"I'd _**never **_call you a fool," protested the courtesan. "And for being frigid, I'll just have to warm you. I think that will be quite nice. Now, I believe that I saw a spark of disbelief in your lovely blue eyes when I mentioned that there are over hundred different types of kisses, so I must counsel you to expect at least one hundred and fifty different types of kisses tonight."

"One hundred and fifty?" Albus disbelievingly questioned. He seemed to relax as he leaned back into the couch and turned to face Malcolm.

"Perhaps more, I'm quite bad at higher mathematics," Malcolm glibly confessed. He balanced a jaunty smile with his concerned look, so he appeared to be a good boy playing at being bad.

_More like a bad boy playing good, Albus, _Malcolm thought.

"I only know of two," admitted Albus. "Close and open mouth."

"There are different types of closed and opened mouth kisses. Some you don't even use your lips."

Albus' smile grew broader and Malcolm dramatically put his hand on his chest.

"You don't believe me, do you?" Malcolm exclaimed in mock horror. "I'll _**demonstrate**_. You'll be my hapless victim."

They leaned toward each other as Fawkes excitedly informed Albus, "_It's starting_!"

_It most assuredly was_, Albus agreed.

* * *

Albus could never remember with any certainty exactly what music the musicians played at the concert. Fawkes could, but Albus must be excused as he was utterly distracted by Malcolm intently demonstrating seventy two assorted types of kisses. Butterfly kisses, angel kisses, finger kisses and more were part of the evening's curriculum. It was amazing how many types of kisses there were, and Malcolm was a harsh and demanding Snogging Master, insisting Albus receive an "O" in his kisses before moving on to the next level of his stringent snogging course.

But Malcolm wasn't content with merely kissing Albus, as he also deliberately untucked Albus' shirt. After Malcolm unbuttoned Albus' shirt further and reached for Albus' belt, making Albus expect a touch that tantalizingly did not quite come, an apprehensive Albus shook his head.

"Please," Albus whispered. "_**Don't**_."

He put his hand on Malcolm's hand to stop his further exploration.

"Tell me why, Albus." Malcolm's voice was quite concerned and soothing, and Albus bit his lip.

How to explain? It wasn't painless to tell Malcolm the truth, to explain the real reason he was reluctant to be so vulnerable with anyone.

_Why, Malcolm, try not to run away in horror when I tell you my tale of woe. You see, I used to be lovers with Gellert. Oh, long before he became a Dark Lord, back when he was merely a naughty, disobedient boy. When we fought, it wasn't the glorious battle to save the world, but it was deeper, darker, more personal._ _The boy I once loved more than my own family, gave me those scars because he wanted me dead. _

_All those years, all those people dead, I let him gain in power, because I was too afraid to face him. Secrets I feared to look upon too closely. My sister… my angel of a sister…_

_The only reason I faced him was because of my godson. I couldn't let him be born in a world where Gellert was uncontrolled and unleashed. Elphias never guessed, but Leah… Leah, she knows the truth, no matter how hard I deny it; the only reason why I dared face Gellert was because of their unborn son. _

_I had prayed that there was part of him that was still redeemable. I needed to save Gellert from himself, to prove to myself that there was some good in him, that I hadn't been completely blinded by my base desire. _

_But I was wrong. _

"I have… scars… from what occurred," Albus softly explained. He stared straight at the concerned Fawkes rather than looking at Malcolm. "They're not pretty… especially… down there… I know… you saw them earlier…They're why I favor my hip."

It was all he could say.

"Those wounds were spitefully done," Malcolm quietly said. Left unsaid was Malcolm's belief that the wounds had been a rather extreme act of vengeance. They were too personal to be otherwise. The courtesan was extensively trained in how to give pleasure; gratification was the end all and be all for Malcolm. The reason why Gellert Grindelwald had desired to nearly castrate Albus was completely beyond Malcolm's limited comprehension. It wasn't as though Gellert and Albus had been _**lovers**_… "Malice drove a man to do that to you, let me see what I can undo."

But Albus would not release Malcolm's hand to let him make good on his promise.

"Fawkes saved my life," Albus whispered. "I nearly bled to death… I… I… truly enjoyed when you… massaged…me there… but…I was dozing… I thought I was dreaming...so I…"

The greatest mage since Merlin winced at his inability to complete a bloody sentence.

"Believed that my massage was merely a wayward imagining of yours," Malcolm tenderly finished. His voice was free from the scorn that Albus feared. "You don't want me to touch you there? Or do you think you _**want**_ me to caress you there, but you're afraid?"

Albus opened his mouth and then closed it.

"Oh, my mistake, you yearn for it, but you're not comfortable with my hands there," Malcolm decided. "Don't you worry, love, I'll still make good on my promise to relieve you of your trousers. It's necessary, you know, so I can have my wicked, wicked way with you. I assure you it will be done at your speed and comfort level besides being done in such a way that it will even improve upon your imaginings. So, may we reposition ourselves?"

The two mages shifted themselves on the now seemingly much wider couch. Malcolm deftly kicked off his shoes before he lay on his back, and he invitingly held out his hand to the sitting Albus.

"What will we be doing?" queried Albus.

"Kissing. Come on," Malcolm roguishly teased. "You'll be on top, love. No one will know what we're doing."

_Fawkes will know_, Albus thought. Mentally, he reached for Fawkes, and he realized that his familiar had closed off his mind to him, for all intents and purposes completely focusing on the music.

The mental absence of Fawkes slightly unnerved him, but Albus realized that a sympathetic Fawkes was giving him privacy to spread his wings.

"You'll still be able to breathe…?" Albus questioned.

"That's why you're on top," Malcolm cheerily assured him. He trailed one finger down Albus' flank, producing a shiver from Albus. His hand lingered before Malcolm approvingly said, "You've managed to keep yourself so lovely and trim, while, alas, I have enjoyed too well my life as a reprobate. Though you should be happy as my degenerate lifestyle means you're unlikely to gouge yourself on my hip bones."

"I quite like your build," blurted Albus. "You're solid… I don't mean that… you're podgy, as you're not…but you're… like… solid like… _**granite**_… You're not fair-weather…you're… solid… I quite like your build…"

"You like my build on me, you mean? Or that you would like it... on you. As for being solid? Not necessarily, my dear. Except where it counts." Malcolm, the dreadful tease, gave him a cheeky smile.

"I'd quite like it… on me…" Albus confessed.

His bumbling admission earned him another dimpled smile from a rather pleased Malcolm.

"Take your shoes off, and lie on top of me, facing me. Then I'll wrap my legs around yours so you don't fall off the ride," Malcolm explained in complete seriousness which naturally caused Albus to blush.

Malcolm's hands moved toward Albus' shoulders and to his face. His questing touch was varied and gentle, encouraging and constant. Before a touch became awkward, it moved, and soon Albus found he was expecting it, waiting for it. Anticipation could be astonishingly… erotic, a surprised Albus realized.

"Hold me tighter, Albus. I don't want you falling off the ride because I didn't bring a safety harness for you," Malcolm whispered.

Truly, riding Malcolm! Albus was, but he _**wasn't**_!

In his nervousness, he was fumbling and graceless but at last he was securely straddling Malcolm. A dumbfounded Albus Dumbledore couldn't believe that he was having an honest to Merlin assignation in the _**middle**_ of a _**concert hall**_.

It was something Galatea Merrythought, the irrepressible wild child, would do, Albus thought, attempting to hide his smile. The witch wouldn't believe when he decided to confide in her regarding this weekend. But he would tell her _**everything**_, in divine retribution for the last decade's worth of tawdry tales she had inflicted on him. Naturally, Albus would leave out his terrible case of the jitters and make it seem as though he was a smooth and suave Lothario.

"Move up a little," Malcolm softly instructed with words and gentle, careful hands. "I want to look into your lovely eyes."

* * *

One concerto had finished and another one was almost completed by the time Albus was comfortably positioned. Then Albus nobly insisted on resting his weight on his elbows and his knees to ensure that Malcolm could breathe! Bold action was required and Malcolm, undercover agent provocateur de l'amour, fluidly struck. He wrapped his arms around a startled Albus and pulled Albus tightly against him, rocking a bit, so to ensure that Albus' pelvis was flush against his. Fortunately, Malcolm had transfigured the couch into being more comfortable for his dodgy back.

"Better," Malcolm purred. "Now, I've done all the work so far this evening which is somewhat disheartening to me. Don't you wish more snogging?"

Albus pressed his lips against Malcolm's cheek in response.

"My great aunt Tessie puts more passion in her kisses," a mournful Malcolm informed Albus, which caused Albus to attempt once more, with feeling.

* * *

Snogging was delightful, but it led to other nice experiences for Albus. Touching was one such joy, which ran the gamut from gentle cuddles, bold caresses to the most audacious stroking. Albus was gently encouraged to explore to his heart's content and he cautiously and then more enthusiastically did so. The tactile sensation of Malcolm's five o'clock shadow against Albus' skin, the smell of Malcolm's cologne and the tantalizing feel of Malcolm's possessive hands on his lower back was quite unlike anything Albus had ever experienced.

Not just Malcolm's hands, but also his feet!

Malcolm's feet were quite busy, rubbing his own. Somehow Albus had lost his socks and he was barefoot.

And… and… Malcolm was moving just so slightly beneath him and… Albus realized that he was also moving… besides becoming rather… keen…

"Don't stop, love," Malcolm whispered in his ear. "It's just like dancing except we're horizontal."

"This isn't dancing," protested a shy Albus.

"Yes, it is. There's music, and our feet are moving. I'm holding you quite tightly, love, and I'm hoping that you're going to get dreadfully bold with me. It's alright, Albus, you can rub yourself against me. It feels… nice… doesn't it," prompted Malcolm when he realized that Albus had ceased moving and was in fact, holding himself quite still.

"It does feels… exceedingly… nice," Albus slowly admitted.

"Then why are you stopping? This weekend you're supposed to allow yourself to be human, Albus. Embrace your empathy, savor your sensuality… aggravatingly alliterate until you're bloody annoying, Albus," jovially exclaimed Malcolm. "Enjoy, relish, explore, delight…and then skive off your classes on Monday! You'll be utterly, deliciously spent, too sleepy to deal with your students."

Malcolm stage whispered in a conspiratorial tone, "Just think of the scandal, love!"

"But what about you?" Albus softly questioned. His voice was oddly intense, and Malcolm decided it was now necessary to be serious.

"What about me?" Malcolm queried. He seemed truly perplexed. "I won't be working on Monday so yes, I'll be sleeping late."

"No. Does it feel …_nice_… for you when I… rub…?"

The courtesan was gobstruck, and a shamed Albus attempted to extricate himself from Malcolm's arms. The man must be part octopi, as Malcolm quickly sprouted an over abundance of arms that kept Albus exactly where he was.

"Love, you need not worry about me, Albus," tenderly explained Malcolm. "This weekend is for _**you**_."

"I _**won't**_ command you to bend over while I mount you," protested a flustered Albus. "I have hired you, yes, and I know that this is merely a business transaction for you, but I can not, will not, _**must not**_ treat you as though you were just a… urn. It's _**not**_ proper!"

His unexpected fierceness apparently stunned the courtesan as Malcolm was reduced to staring at him, his glib tongue thankfully silenced. The damnable mage still managed to have his arms possessively wrapped around Albus so he was unable to wiggle out of Malcolm's grasp.

Albus didn't just need sex, Malcolm realized. If that was he needed, Malcolm could easily flip him onto the bottom and shag him repeatedly. No, **no**, _**no**_, while it would be quite tempting to turn Albus into a sweet little bottom, it wasn't what Albus desired. He craved the giddy pride of _**knowing**_ that he was capable of sexually satisfying his partner. It wasn't because of the typical notch on his belt bullshit, but because Albus really desired to satisfy his partner.

_Even_ if he was bedding a broken down, over the hill, podgy, bastard of a whore.

"You're a _**romantic**_." Malcolm finally whispered with no small sense of surprise. His smile was uneven and yet he seemed truly amused. "Oh my _**word**_, I will have to be quite cautious with you."

Really, the way Malcolm was reacting, it was though the nearly virginal and romantic Albus was some rare exotic creature that needed to be immediately classified by Newton Scamander. But the damnable man still wasn't giving him a proper answer or room to sufficiently draw breath!

_He was enjoying it. Malcolm got a great deal of pleasure when you were being bold. Not just physical delight, but mental satisfaction, like the way you felt when Minerva easily grasped how to Transfigure that pin into a match. You were proud of her…_ Fawkes helpfully explained. _  
_

Wonderful, Fawkes had decided it was necessary to once more to get personally involved in the "Get Albus Laid" program of events. Was it necessary to use a ruddy, bloody… _**firstie**_ as an example? He didn't want Malcolm feeling _**benevolent**_ or _**kindly**_ or worst yet for Albus' pride, _**fond **_in the_** paternal sense.**_

_I'm sorry_, Fawkes sorrowfully exclaimed. _I've embarrassed you once more._ _I truly didn't mean to do so._

Fawkes' presence faded from his mind even while Albus sincerely apologized to his familiar for being a nasty git.

Albus Dumbledore was sixty five years old, which should have been old enough to have become comfortable in his own skin. He wasn't comfy with who he was and he lacked anything in the way of self assurance. His scarred psyche remembered too well how Gellert had mocked his sexual tentativeness and how Gellert had happily enumerated his many faults as a lover. Gellert had many a lover at his old school, male and female, all of them exceptionally skilled.

Truly, Albus had desired to be a better lover but Gellert had lacked the patience to teach him. Now that Albus made the profound decision that he wanted to experience Malcolm _in full_, Albus' worries about his sexual inadequacies were once more foremost in his mind.

"Yes, love, when you rub against me, it feels delightful," rumbled Malcolm in a voice that Albus felt rather than heard. "But you've _**stopped**_, so I'm rather… distraught… heartbroken… saddened… in desperate need of physical solace… I… need… consolation!"

Malcolm liberally punctuated his words with sharp nips to Albus' neck. It was hard to think what with Malcolm's sharp nips and his wandering hands that were now possessively latched onto Albus' bottom.

"I think we were busy frotting," encouraged Malcolm. "Just in case you've forgotten."

"I believe that you're quite correct," Albus agreed.

"Snogging also," was Malcolm's next helpful prompt.

They kissed, slowly at first and then with greater intensity. They leisurely touched and explored, allowing Albus to gain more confidence, and then… in time, they just held onto each other tightly.

"Lovely," whispered Malcolm. He was affectionately stroking a drowsy Albus' hair.

A rather soft sigh of contentment was Albus' only response. He was really quite tired and satisfied just to rest in the afterglow.

"But a little messy," quipped the irrepressible Malcolm. "We'll have to swish and flick ourselves back into respectability."

"Hush," protested Albus.

Thankfully, the courtesan decided to be quiet, so Albus could listen to the music. It was odd, Albus drowsily thought, he had thoroughly reviewed the program and he truly believed that "Ode to Joy" was supposed to be only a string quartet. The piccolo descant was a nice touch, but Albus was a traditionalist. If it was good enough for Beethoven, why did modern day conductors insist on modifying the classics? It just stank of hubris.

"Albus?" Malcolm softly questioned. "You awake?"

"Barely," mumbled Albus.

"Does Fawkes sing along normally? Or can I gloat that besides giving you an absolutely mind-blowing climax that I caused Fawkes to spontaneously break out into song?" Malcolm questioned.

Albus' fluent and rather original curses answered that question. He quickly dressed and moved toward his familiar who was perched on the railing.

"_**FAWKES!"**_ Albus hissed at his oblivious Phoenix who was joyfully singing at the top of his lungs. While it wasn't out of the ordinary for Fawkes to sing along with the gramophone at Hogwarts, it seemed that recent events in the box seats had given Fawkes an extra fervor and a louder volume. "_**Stop your madness this ****instant**_!"

The audience seemed to enjoy the impromptu Phoenix solo and even the musicians were stirred to new heights of creativity. Albus, on the other hand, wanted very much to hide.

"I wonder how I can put _**this**_ on my business card," the courtesan proudly pondered as he looked upon the merry chaos he had created. "I made a Phoenix sing!"

* * *

"No, I'm not angry with you, Fawkes," Albus repeated. Perhaps he didn't sound as sincere in his assurance as the Phoenix desired, but it _**was**_ his thirty-seventh time that he had assured Fawkes that he truly wasn't pissed as his familiar's ad lib solo.

_I completely forgot myself_, Fawkes repeated. _I'll sincerely apologize to the musicians. I just completely forgot where I was. You're not still angry with me?_

"No, I'm _**not**_ angry with you," repeated Albus.

_You sound displeased. You're positive that you're not still angry with me?_

"Change of plans," Malcolm interrupted Albus' thirty-eighth proclamation that he wasn't angry. The courtesan had a hurried conversation with Bill Weasley and a dozen other people. "There will be riots in the halls if we take you to meet the musicians. I know you wanted to meet them, so Bill's invited them to his party. Esme's helping Bill with his party as the news you're attending his party has gotten out. Everyone is wangling an invitation to the party. Grab my hand; I'm taking you directly to his château."

Albus reluctantly took Malcolm's hand.

"Someone asked Bill Weasley for the chance to speak to you," Malcolm explained. "I have to admit that I'm a little confused on why he went to the trouble of requesting Bill's intervention instead of talking to you directly, but Bill was quite displeased. Bill says that you _**must**_ speak to him. Hold on!"

They Apparated into a large sitting room. There was a jolly fire roaring in the fireplace, and two glasses next to a bottle of chilled champagne. There didn't seem to be anyone in the room except for the three of them, Malcolm, Albus and Fawkes.

"I'm leaving," Malcolm explained. "I was instructed that this is a private meeting and I was specifically not invited. He's in the chair. I'll be outside."

Malcolm quickly exited, and Fawkes warbled a welcome.

Albus softly greeted the apparently empty room, feeling a bit uneasy about the situation. When there was no response, he decided it was necessary to face whoever it was in the room.

_**Not Armando, please. Not Armando Dippet!**_

_It's not Armando! _Fawkes happily informed him._ It's…_

"Hello, Albus. So nice that we finally get this chance to have a chinwag," Filius Flitwick growled. The Charms Instructor looked quite fierce, with his bushy mustache a quiver in righteous anger. "I decided that I've had quite _**enough**_ of you not talking to me, so I asked Bill Weasley what exactly is your problem? Are you a bigot? Do you have something against me as I'm not pure-Human?"

Albus sank down into the chair next to Filius, too stunned to speak. He had never thought that Filius Flitiwck might take his reticence as something darker than it was.

"Bill Weasley assured me that in spite of the evidence to the contrary, that you're not anti-Goblin; that you are most assuredly not a pure-Blood Bigot and that the true reason you're not speaking to me is because of Armando Dippet. Bill says that you're quite the shy gay boy, and whenever you speak to any male member of the faculty, Armando immediately believes that you're recruiting them to your Quidditch team. Therefore, you really don't talk to anyone except for Galatea because you're tired of Armando's shit."

_**Oh bugger,**_ Albus thought.

"I don't like bigotry, prejudice and intolerance and I'm disgusted to find out that Armando's an extremist. Henceforth, effective Monday, I _anticipate_ that you will talk to me. We'll start off with "Good morning" and gradually work our way up to full conversations. If Dippet says anything, you can cheerily assure him that you recruited me to your Quidditch team. You will inform him that I was worth a bloody **_platinum _**cauldron, because I possess such sterling qualities that I merited far more than a standard size 2 pewter cauldron. I'm quite glad we've had this little discussion to clear the air because the only reason why I haven't said anything until now is because both Galatea and Horace say that you've been out of sorts since the battle." Filius' voice had softened into a sympathetic tone.

Albus quietly nodded his head.

"You know, I was a dueling champion when I was younger and stupider. There's a look in your eyes that I recognized because I've seen it before. You need to find someone you trust and to whom you can confess what's bothering you. If you don't, the pain will just overwhelm you. Talk to Galatea, Albus, as she wants to help you."

Filius patted Albus' hand and then got out of the chair. He walked over to the doors and invited Malcolm back into the room.

"Fawkes? Lovely addition to "Ode to Joy", perhaps your mage will let you sing with the Hogwarts chorus? I'm looking for a few good voices that can carry a tune," Filius exclaimed before he left the room.

Albus was still stunned, his eyebrows seemingly permanently frozen in astonishment.

First the experience with Malcolm and now Filius. Perhaps, perhaps he truly did need to escape more often from Hogwart's hallowed halls.


	7. Chapter 7

A/N # 1 – Well not 2 of 2. Not so fluffy any more. My noble attempt at writing a short, fluffy piece was sabotaged by a certain character. (Glares at Albus).

A/N # 2 - AD/ED, AD/GG and AD/MOC

Thanks to MyMadness for her help with this.

We last left Albus and Filius having cleared the air.

* * *

A quick buzz on his cheek was a pensive Albus' reward for chatting with Filius. Albus was still lost in thought so he didn't say anything.

_Filius believed that I wasn't talking to him because he has a smidgeon of goblin blood?_

"So, Master Filius does not appear to have hexed off your nethers in a fit of pique?" Malcolm drolly remarked in an attempt to break the silence.

Albus' eyebrows quirked in amusement even as Malcolm seriously continued, "I'd be quite distressed if he decided to hex them. Though I can assure you that I would put aside my righteous anger in order to kiss and console you."

If Malcolm was attempting to cause Albus to blush, he failed.

"I envy you," Albus softly informed Malcolm. His tone was serious, though Malcolm's quirked smile betrayed his belief that Albus was pulling his wand.

"Pray tell, _**why **_would you envy me?"

He truly didn't understand why Albus might envy him?

"You're at ease with who you are," explained Albus.

"You're ruddy serious, aren't you?" Malcolm retorted. He turned somber, and sagely nodded his head. "Let me guess, you always wanted nothing more than a cozy little cottage with roses 'round the door with a loving spouse, 3.8 kids and a crup. Instead, you're only a bloody celebrity, the savior of the free world."

Fawkes voiced his displeasure at being compared to a _**crup**_ and being deemed lacking.

"Fawkes, it is naturally assumed by all that you are far better than any mere crup," smoothly added Malcolm. "You really want the cottage with roses?"

"When I was younger, no, I didn't. Now, now, I am quite jealous of Elphias and Leah. I believe that I could be quite content with such a serene life," Albus confessed.

To actually have a partner that cared for him? What would it be like to return from a long day of teaching to have a partner and little ones waiting for him? To wake in the middle of the night and have someone next to him in his bed?

"Some mages are destined for more than….," Malcolm began.

"I don't bloody _**want**_ greatness," spat Albus. "I don't desire to be the Minister of Magic as I am content to be an instructor at Hogwarts. Why is that so bloody hard for you to believe that I don't want my supposed glorious destiny crammed down my throat? I just wish to be left alone."

Albus didn't mean "you" as in Malcolm, he meant _**you**_ as in the entire bloody world; the women who sent him silky unmentionables, the politicians who attempted to latch unto him to promote his supposed approval toward their own nefarious designs, Dippet and his obscene obsession with Albus' sexuality and everyone else who wouldn't give him any breathing room. But mostly, Albus directed his anger toward his younger, stupider self who had been too self-absorbed to know he had possessed everything that was truly important so his tone came out much harsher than he meant.

Instead of making a glib comment, Malcolm stopped talking. Albus felt a chill form in their formerly warm camaraderie because Albus Dumbledore was nasty git.

_Bloody hell, bloody hell. I don't want to be left alone by YOU. I need you so damn badly, Malcolm. _

"I'm truly sorry; I don't mean to be such a bloody stroppy cow," Albus sincerely apologized. "Please, accept my heartfelt regret."

"You don't need to apologize to me," was Malcolm's soft response. "It's _**not**_ necessary."

"It _**IS**_ necessary to me," was Albus' immediate protest. "Please, I'm sorry. Forgive me. It was most unwarranted."

"No, I overstepped, so it is my fault," retorted a rather remote Malcolm. "My apologies, Albus."

Bloody hell, Malcolm was being courteous and refined! He was acting the docile and deferential _**whore**_ and Albus was his bloody _**punter**_. Albus much preferred Malcolm cheeky and irrepressible.

Albus knew that he lacked the knack to apologies. He always spoke his words of regret. In a perfect world, the victim of Albus' stupidity, the wounded object of his thoughtlessness, would hear Albus' deep sincerity in his inelegant apologies and would accept his contrition. But it was not a perfect world, and far too often Albus' wounded justifiably doubted his sincerity. Albus sincerely meant his apologies, truly, he did. All his years alone, he had become too aware of how one action, one word could change the course of events.

But his requests for forgiveness were always fumbling and awkward. The ungainliness of his spoken words overshadowed his deep sincerity, his true earnestness in obtaining his victim's forgiveness.

Ariana would never be able to shrive Albus, Aberforth had vowed on their parents' graves to never forgive him, and it had taken far too long to convince Elphias of his remorse. Truly, credit must be given to Leah for her role in Elphias' life, as she had healed the wounds that Albus had inflicted.

His headache came back roaring back to life like a hungry Hungarian Horntail, and Albus' head felt as though it was being squeezed in a vice. Albus abruptly sat down and closed his eyes. He began rubbing his temples in the feeble hopes that it would help ease the pain.

_Your head! The pains are back! _Fawkes whispered.

"It's been a very pleasant outing, but I fear that it would be best if I return to Hogwarts," Albus whispered. "Regretfully, I must inform you that I won't be requiring your services tomorrow as I'll advise Elphias and Leah that I'm unable to attend. Don't be afraid about your remuneration, I assured Madam Esme that you would get paid for the full weekend."

Perhaps Matron Maloney would be kind enough to allow him a sip or perhaps three of Headache Be Gone potion. He didn't like using the narcotic laced potion, but tonight, tonight he'd like to sleep.

"I beg your pardon? I'm being cavalierly dismissed? You're sending me on my merry way believing that by assuring me that I'll be paid for the entire weekend that I _**won't**_ raise a fuss," questioned a disbelieving Malcolm. "Are you _**displeased**_ with my services? Didn't you enjoy yourself? Before I go anywhere, I desire to know what has caused this!"

"I truly enjoyed our time together, and I will treasure every moment," Albus insisted. It was the truth, as he was planning on putting these memories into his Pensieve so he could re-live every wonderful, magnificent moment, well, except for these past few horrible minutes. "But I need to return to Hogwarts…"

The pains doubled then and he could do nothing more than cradle his head. It would be dangerous to Disapparate back to Hogwarts in his condition, as he might misjudge and Apparate in someone's wall in Hogsmeade. Perhaps Fawkes would take him home?

"Lie down," Malcolm softly ordered. He put his hand on Albus' shoulder and gently pushed him backwards on the couch. "Close your eyes and try to relax. Once you're supine, I'll do something for your headache. Why didn't you tell me your headache was back?"

Not wishing to answer, Albus just did as he was instructed. He found his head was being cradled in Malcolm's hands and Malcolm's fingertips were gently pressing into his head.

"My fingertips are pressing into the junction between the neck muscles and the base of the skull. Adjust yourself until it feels like you're in the right spot as it should loosen your head."

Fawkes chirped his appreciation and then the Phoenix began softly crooning.

"_Lumos Pesternomi," _whispered Malcolm. The lights in the room dimmed, and Albus felt something silky being placed over his eyes.

"Don't worry, it's my muffler," explained Malcolm. "It'll block the light. You need to learn to handle pressure better. I fully expect to open the Daily Prophet one day to read the alarming front page news that your head has quite popped off your shoulders due to your high stress levels. Tonight…I will do everything in my power to relax you. That's only if I can break your headache."

"Tonight?" hopefully questioned Albus. _There's to be a tonight even after my bad behavior?_

"Yes, tonight. Tonight, I think you need a full body massage," Malcolm informed him. "I'll take my time and knead your muscles until they're nice and loose. I'll use a great deal of massage oil… do you have any preference on what oil I should use?"

"None," Albus whispered. Surprisingly, the pressure of Malcolm's fingertips against the back of his head was easing the pains in his head.

"We'll discuss it more later; I have all sorts of delicious ideas," cheerily assured the courtesan. "Now rest for a bit."

Gratefully, Albus closed his eyes.

* * *

"Are you ready to meet your adoring public?" Malcolm questioned. "We've been in here for almost thirty minutes and I'm sure people are wondering when you're making your triumphant entrance."

A pain free Albus harrumphed as he sat up. He stretched and Malcolm began to massage Albus' left shoulder.

"I have a wicked, wicked idea, which might make it more fun for you," Malcolm commented. Then he narrowed his blue eyes and gave Albus a long, appraising look. For good measure, he brushed his hand against Albus' cheek. "But… no… you're a bit shy, the very idea might thoroughly traumatize you and leave you the foetal position, rocking in the corner. Please, forget that I even mentioned it. Wipe any illicit thought of unrivaled erotic temptation from your weary mind."

Really, how could Albus not want more information? He desired to be bold and audacious like Malcolm, to shake off his shy gay boy persona and therefore he'd willingly do whatever Malcolm suggested.

For a moment, he felt uneasy, as that desire reminded him too much of his unhealthy eagerness to please Gellert.

_He's not __**him**__! Malcolm can laugh at himself, _Fawkes reminded his mage. _Trust your wings so you can fly! Nestlings need to learn to trust their wings! _

"Tell me," insisted Albus as Malcolm stopped kneading his shoulder. .

"A little bird told me while you were sleeping that you're a Legilimens, and that's part of the reason why you have such bad headaches. You're still quite tired from _What I have been Paid not to Mention_ so everyone's thoughts are just ramming themselves against your brain. That's most inconsiderate of them," Malcolm dryly commented. Then in more conciliatory tones, he added, "Now, don't get angry with Fawkes, as I was just wondering if I should call for a Healer. It's not healthy that you're laid low with headaches _**twice**_ in the same evening."

"This is the first time I've had two headaches," Albus vainly protested.

_Because his headaches normally start first thing in the morning and he doesn't stop hurting until I sing him to sleep. _

Albus glared at the birded betrayer, Fawkes, who had the nerve to look not look the faintest bit ashamed. Bad enough that the Phoenix had chatted with Malcolm, but to reveal his secrets?

"Seduction is not just physical, Albus. It is an emotional… spiritual and yes… mental experience. I'd like you to pop into my mind, and I can show you what delicious things I have planned for you."

"Pop into your mind?" protested Albus. Truly, legilimency was an art. 'Popping into his mind' was not how Albus would describe the experience. Legilimency was akin to swimming in a pool of crystal clear, cool water on a hot summer day…

"Yes, is there a better term?" Malcolm innocently questioned. "I don't worry that you'll rummage around in my brain. If you do, there's nothing in it except for lusty thoughts of how delectable you are. Come on, don't you want to know what illicit fantasies you're starring in?"

"I simply can not believe that I'm starring…" protested Albus.

"Oh yes, and they're such lovely fantasies. I have this divine bathroom. It's decadent and oh so self-indulgent, as the floors are nicely heated. There's nothing worse than cold tile under your bare feet," Malcolm assured Albus. "I also have a very large bathtub. It's deep enough so you can soak up to your chin and there's enough room for both of us. You're sitting in my lap and… you're relaxing as there are these marvelous little jets… that make the water bubble and circulate. They're wonderful for tight muscles… do you want to know what else is happening?"

Albus managed to breath once more and he nodded his head.

"Slip into my mind, Albus."

Hesitantly, Albus did and he was surprised by the mental sensations he experienced. Desire, for one, and he knew he was blushing when he realized what exactly they were doing in the tub. Or should he be honest? What he was letting Malcolm do to him. Albus could feel the warm water, Malcolm's lips nuzzling his neck and then they both nearly drowned when a disapproving Fawkes decided to splash them.

_Mating takes place in the nest, silly! Not in the bathing water! Water is for drinking, for the cleaning of feathers and talons, not mating! Are you __**fishes**__ or __**wizards**__?_

Malcolm laughed, and Fawkes chirped his displeasure.

"I'm sorry, Fawkes, truly I am, but you splashing Albus was quite unexpected and exceeding amusing. Does he join in your bath often, Albus?" Malcolm questioned.

Albus wouldn't admit to it to anyone, but Fawkes was rather uncommonly fond of water, and if Albus was bathing, then so much the better. Fawkes believed that as Albus' dedicated familiar he needed to keep an eye on his mage at all times so he'd stay out of trouble.

"Fawkes, I hope you understand that I'm quite inhibited," Malcolm informed the Phoenix. "And if I can waylay your mage into my bath, I must request that you not join us."

The Phoenix, damn him, looked quite disappointed, as he so loved to splash in Albus' tub, especially when he was close to the Burn as it cooled his feverish skin. His crest wilted and he was pouting… yes, a pouting Phoenix. Merciful Merlin! He saved the world from a Dark Wizard and he was bloody, ruddy Henpecked… YES… _**HENPECKED**_ by his FAMILIAR!

"But when we're in my bedroom," Malcolm continued. "You can watch, and in fact, if you desire to spontaneously break out in song, be my guest…It will do wonders for my self-esteem issue."

Fawkes brightened immediately, and the damn bird nuzzled Malcolm.

_I quite like him; MUST we return him when you're done with him this weekend? We could hide him in your room at Hogwarts. No one would EVER know he was there! He could keep me entertained while you're teaching! You wouldn't have to worry about feeding him; I could hunt for him in the Forbidden Forest! There are all sorts of tasty things there!_

"Sounds simply delicious, Fawkes," a shuddering Malcolm dryly assured the Phoenix.

"MALCOLM!" Albus feebly protested. "Fawkes doesn't need your instigation."

"But you, my dear, delicious Albus desperately need instigation. Now, everyone's wondering why you and I… and Fawkes," Malcolm quickly added when Fawkes glared at him. "Are still barricaded in this room. Are we having an assignation? A duel? Am I reciting love sonnets in your ear? Perhaps you're talking dirty to me. Try not to smirk when we leave the room, Albus, else naughty rumors will start about you taking advantage of sweet, innocent and oh so impressionable me."

Albus stared at him in stunned disbelief. Sweet? Innocent? _**Malcolm**_?

"My Great Aunt Tessie mistakenly believes that I'm as pure as the driven snow," Malcolm explained. "That is in spite of knowing how I make my living as a rent-boy in this cruel, cruel world."

Fawkes released a very unPhoenixy cackle.

* * *

"I had a slight headache, William," Albus explained the reason for his disappearance to a concerned William Weasley. "I thought a few minutes of quiet in your room might help slay it, and it did."

Weasley narrowed his eyes and leaned close, "I'm glad you're feeling better. You get things settled with Filius, Albus?"

"Yes," Albus assured him.

"That's what gave him the headache, Bill. Now, I'm not saying Fi was the cause, but Albus was quite distressed after their conversation," Malcolm helpfully inserted.

"Fi? You call Filius Flitwick, Fi?" questioned Albus.

"We've met once or twice before. In Monte Carlo, or was it on the banks of the Rhine? He had just zapped that Prussian mage into insensibility at the International Dueling Championships. The rather lovely ladies of the town had crowned him with a Coronae triumphales of laurel leaves and were carrying Fi on their shoulders as he was the conquering hero," explained a far too glib Malcolm.

Albus stared at him, disbelieving the very idea of the diminutive Filius Flitwick being carried on maidens' shoulders like an exultant, victorious hero and Bill…no, William… Weasley shook his head in amused incredulity.

"You must tell me how you can afford that wit on your Hogwarts' salary, Albus," William teased. He turned somber and took Albus by his arm in order to pull him into a quiet corner. Taking the hint, Malcolm meandered over to the bar.

"I was not happy to find out that Filius and you were not speaking, Albus," the Governor of Hogwarts sternly informed him. "You've got everything to rights now?"

"Yes, William," Albus repeated his reassurance. "I can certainly assure you that I am not prejudiced against Filius because of his heritage."

"I didn't believe you were blinkered like that so I was quite distressed when he spoke to me of his concerns. I had assured him that you would welcome him with open arms to Hogwarts."

Well, Dippet thought I'd welcome him by spreading his legs and pounding him into my mattress, Albus thought but wisely didn't say.

"It's very important that you and Filius get along. Morgan and I worked exceedingly hard to get him into that position as Malfoy and his crowd wanted someone less suitable and more malleable to their way of thinking. After retiring from dueling, Filius Flitwick could have had his pick of careers and made a hell of lot more money than most of our staff members at Hogwarts; you being the lone exception as you can afford a bloody weekend with Malcolm."

Albus flushed at that comment.

"People like you and Filius and Galatea are bloody necessary at that school. Our students desperately need instructors who aren't blinded by pure-blood nonsense, who treat human and non-human, pure-blood, half-blood and Muggle born all the same. You took Rubeus Hagrid under your wing and ensured that he had a place to stay after that misfortunate incident. What would have happened to him if you hadn't spoken to Dippet?" William intently questioned Albus and then answered his own question. "He would have fallen in with a bad crowd. They would have used the boy for nefarious purposes. I knew his father and it would have broken his heart."

"Yes, his father loved Rubeus very much," Albus agreed. "When he knew he was ill, he came to me and asked if I would keep an eye on Rubeus as his mother was uninterested in nurturing him."

"I must apologize for revealing your sexuality to Filius. It's none of his business, but he was so vexed that you weren't speaking to him that he was about to call you out for a duel. You may be the fastest wand in the Western Hemisphere but Filius has an impossible strike zone," explained William. "I feared losing both of you! I need you both teaching our impressionable youth, not recuperating at St. Mungo's!"

"He would have found out sooner rather than later," Albus reminded William. "You don't need to apologize."

"I insist and therefore I _will_ apologize. You should be able to talk to any of your colleagues and any of your students without Dippet swooning over the possible scandal. I worry, Albus, at the possible outcome of the next election of the Board of Governors. Moody and I believe that we will be replaced with new Malfoy-sponsored candidates. The LeStranges have come into money, and they're making large contributions to Hogwarts so they're the most likely additions. That's why Moody and I wanted Filius in _**now**_ before Galatea retires. "

"LeStrange?" Albus protested. "Narrow minded, blinkered sycophants."

"Enough shop talk," William announced. "You go have fun with your old classmate."

Weasley winked at him.

"You don't have a problem with me… paying him?" whispered Albus.

"I hired him for Bilius, Albus. He's very highly recommended and quite discreet." The dark haired wizard sighed and shook his head. "Truly I wish you would believe me; I have never had a problem with your sexuality. You are a decent, upstanding soul who had the traumatic experience of having one of my sons proposition you. You turned him down. Gently. He was very confused and extremely desperate for assurance about his sexuality. You took the time to talk to him and reassure him that he wasn't a deviant."

"He's _**not**_," Albus fiercely protested.

"No, my son is most assuredly _**not**_ an immoral deviant. There are others, blackguards and scoundrels, who would have taken advantage of Bilius' inexperience and wounded him. His late mother and I knew for years and it mattered not a lick to us. In fact, we were delighted as that meant we had one son where we didn't have to worry about some witch's father arriving on our doorstep demanding a wand-wedding."

"Thank you, William." Albus tried to express his sincere gratitude to William Weasley for his understanding, but the Hogwarts Governor shook his head.

"Bill, Albus, I insist on you calling me Bill. No, _**thank you**_, as you convinced my son to talk to me. I desired to talk to him but I thought it best if he approached me when he was ready. We had a very long overdue talk and you're responsible for that," Weasley reminded him. "Now, you better hurry as your date is tangoing with Galatea."

"Galatea's _**here**_?" Albus questioned.

"And dancing with Malcolm, which should be a cause for alarm for all concerned," William dryly commented.

* * *

Albus entered the ball room where he found Malcolm and Galatea were in the center of the room, performing a blistering Argentinean tango that left nothing to the imagination. They were standing quite close and then the two ended their dance with a piernazo, her one leg wrapped scandalously high around Malcolm's waist. They stood there for a bit, breathing heavily while the crowd applauded.

Fawkes whistled his appreciation of the dance and a flustered Albus shushed him. The Phoenix was being unbelievably rowdy and ill-mannered and Albus wondered if Malcolm had slipped his familiar more champagne.

"I thought she was complaining about her buggered hip earlier," Horace Slughorn whispered in Albus' ear. "Quite a surprise to see you out and about, Albus. You usually decline my invitations to social events. Fawkes, pleasure to see you as always."

The Potion Master's pale gooseberry eyes narrowed, "Any idea who that fellow is dancing with Galatea? Filius nearly went for his wand as he thought the bloke was getting fresh with Galatea. I assured Filius that if Galatea believed the man's advances were unwarranted, she could handle herself."

_**Bad enough Filius, but Horace… and GALATEA?**_

"No, no idea at all," a flustered Albus lied.

Naturally, Filius Flitwick ruined his prevarication as he was trailing after Horace.

"Albus, I must protest the scandalous behavior of your friend," Filius growled. "When you and Bill had your chat, he swooped in and asked Galatea to dance."

The two troublemakers were strolling over to them, appearing completely uncaring of the gossip that they had caused, but knowing Galatea as well as he did, Albus knew that she was relishing every damn moment. Malcolm… well, he was gloating at the attention.

It was a sham, Albus realized, because everyone would be discussing the sexually explicit tango and no one would realize that Malcolm was actually Albus' date.

"Albus! Malcolm informed me that you had actually left Godric's monastery this evening. Naturally, I didn't believe him until I saw he was wearing a Phoenix feather in his lapel. Now, Albus, I'm quite upset with you, as he has a feather from Fawkes, and I don't," Galatea teased Albus. She turned toward Malcolm and gave him a mock glare. "How do you rate that?"

"We're old school chums," inserted Albus. "If you desired a feather from Fawkes, you should have mentioned it."

"I don't know about you, but after that dance I could certainly use a drink. Anyone else?" Malcolm offered. Horace declined as did Albus and Galatea, but Filius decided he wished a drink.

The two mismatched souls walked over to the bar, with Malcolm leaning down to talk to Filius. Their conversation was quite intense.

"Malcolm also assured me that you are quite the dancer, Albus. Naturally, I refused to believe it, as you never dance at the Yule Ball, no matter how many times I ask. So come on!" Galatea insisted. "Horace, Filius, I hope you don't mind. I've been trying to dance with this ginger haired rapscallion for the last ten years or so, and he's always refused, claiming that he doesn't know how to dance."

She pulled Albus onto the dance floor while Horace laughed. Fortunately, Fawkes agreed to find another perch for the duration of the dance. He flew to one of the ceiling beams, and began to groom himself as he had an itchy patch of skin that needed attention.

_Showoff!_ Albus fondly chastised his familiar. _You picked that spot as_ _the light lands on you and shows off your marvelous coloring. _

"So who is _**he**_? Where did you meet? Have you shagged him yet?" Galatea immediately questioned when they were slow dancing. Without waiting for an answer, she continued, "He's _**quite**_ the charmer, Albus. You are being careful aren't you? You don't have a lot of experience in the romance department and he's a smooth operator. I'll be quite vexed if he hurts you. But a Phoenix Feather, you _**must**_ be quite smitten with him."

That was the first flaw in his plan, what happened when people asked him about Malcolm, as it seemed passing Mal off as an old school chum might not work.

"You two seem quite comfortable with each other, so it's been a while. Yet you blush with him, so it's still exciting and new for you," deduced Galatea. "Why didn't you _**tell**_ me you found someone? When did this happen? I would have invited you two out for dinner!"

"We went to school together. He was a year or two ahead. We got in contact recently and there seemed to be sparks," Albus explained, hoping that it was enough.

It was, as the grey eyed, libertine Galatea was delighted.

"I'm so glad for you, Albus. I was so worried about you after you were released from that Teutonic nightmare of a hospital," Merrythought informed him. "You were utterly shattered and when you asked me to stay…"

Albus blushed as he had prayed that Galatea would never ever mention _**that**_ incident, how on his first night back at Hogwarts after the battle, he had propositioned Galatea.

"Will you share my bed with me tonight?" Albus had inelegantly pleaded.

It had been a fit of desperate insanity, an overwhelming desire to feel _**normal**_ for once. Elphias had found happiness in Leah's loving arms, perchance could he not do the same? Galatea had deliberately misunderstood his request and had overlooked his pathetically lame attempts at heterosexual seduction. The witch had ignored his shy kisses and had tightly held onto his wandering hands to ensure that things remained completely chaste between them. Instead of sex, she had tightly embraced him and had soothed Albus when he had woke, screaming, from his nightmares where Gellert, Aberforth and Ariana lay dead at his feet.

"I feared that I made the wrong decision that night," she whispered. "I knew what you wanted from me, but I didn't think it would be fair to you. But you've been so reticent lately, Albus, that I wondered if I should have offered you … closeness. I refused because I worried about ruining our friendship. Sex does that too often, and I believed that you needed a friend more than a lay."

"I needed you to be _**you**_, Galatea," he firmly stated as they turned to the music.

"You're a wonderful dancer, Albus. So light on your feet. Did Malcolm teach you to dance?" The witch teased.

He didn't respond, thinking it would be worth making Galatea wait for an answer and the dreadful witch laughed.

"Albus, you're smiling again. I haven't seen you smile in the longest time!"

* * *

The dance ended so Albus escorted Galatea off the dance floor to where their friends were sitting. Filius had conjured up a cozy little sitting area in a corner of the room and there was even a perch for Fawkes who was quaffing more champagne and strawberries from Malcolm, the enabler. The Hogwarts professors had a crowd of people around them and Galatea jabbed him in the ribs.

"All your fault," she hissed. "Though dear Horace is delightedly making contacts. Don't worry, he won't promise you for anything."

Malcolm politely stood up and let Galatea have his place which was next to Filius Flitwick. He motioned to Albus and the disappointed crowd watched as the two men walked towards the bar.

"Just to let you know, Filius knows what I do for a living," Malcolm managed to say without moving his lips.

"Bloody hell," growled Albus.

"He promises not to say anything, especially not to Dippet. Filius was rather vexed with the fact that the hotblooded witch and I tangoed, and I thought it best to let him know that I'm here on an assignment. He's of small stature, but that wand of his… _**legendary**_. I want all my parts working properly, especially _**that**_ part."

"Why?" Albus hissed.

"Why do I want all my parts working?" Malcolm not-so-innocently questioned.

Yes, the smug bastard… charmer… was leering at him!

"No, why did you tell him?"

"Because he and Galatea are _**dating**_, Albus. She didn't tell me when we danced even after I explained to her that I was using her as a faux girlfriend. Good thing I never went into the teaching profession, since at Hogwarts, you can't date members of the same or the opposite sex! Sluggie must have a booming business among the staff for his anti-chafing skin lotion." Malcolm stopped walking and smirked at Albus' obvious embarrassment.

"Oh, I forget, Anti-Chafe charms are so much more discreet," teased Malcolm. "You don't look happy. You want to pop into my mind for a bit? Might cheer you up. I can think of some exceedingly naughty thoughts. I'm thinking of a long massage in my chambers… lots of lotion and a great deal of stroking…There's candlelight, soft music and you are just so deliciously spent that you're falling asleep without the benefit of a Phoenix lullaby."

"Malcolm, I do have to _**work**_ with them," Albus softly reminded him.

"That you do, Albus, and now they're busy cackling like a bunch of hens over your mysterious inamorato, a dangerous scoundrel who has quite swept you off your feet and into a passionate relationship. You'll be the talk of the staff room for the next month or so," Malcolm assured him. "Well, you already are, I know, but this time, you'll have the whiff of scandal."

"You're incorrigible," vainly protested Albus, who wasn't sure if he was amused or horrified or quite possibly both by his companion.

"You like it," Malcolm assured him. He handed Albus a glass of champagne.

"I think I'm drinking too much tonight," Albus admitted. "My anxiety…."

"I've actually taken the liberty of removing a great deal of the alcohol from your drinks. I want you relaxed and mellow, not polluted and paralytic. Young Mr. Weasley invited us to go dancing at the club, but I think it's best if we turn him down. I don't want you to develop another headache from their loud music. Plus those dancing parties are the proverbial sausage fest. I don't want some handsome bloke catching your eye and you deciding that you'd fancy shagging him instead of me. You're just so bloody scrummy, I'd probably end up dueling."

"No, it would never happen," protested Albus. Then trifle too eagerly, he blurted, "When can we leave?"

Malcolm dimpled and winked at him. The smile and the twinkle in Malcolm's blue eyes made Albus feel very warm inside.

"Albus, we just got here," Malcolm gently reminded him. "It would be terribly vulgar if we just ran out though I'm chuffed to buggery about your enthusiasm."

"Malcolm, I'm no good in social situations. I get so ruddy tense that I say the wrong things. I made my appearance, can't we just go?" pleaded Albus.

His earnestness earned a vigorous shake of Malcolm's head.

"Stuff and nonsense! You're talking rubbish, Albus. Relax and we'll work the room. I'll make suggestions on what to say to the various people, and you do all the talking. They won't notice me, as they'll be too enthralled that you're talking to them," explained Malcolm. He pointed out a green clad fellow. "For example, that's Cédrick Diggory over there. He just had his first son, Amos, after six girls. He's over the moon because his Family Tree has a branch now. Besides congratulations, apologies are required as Fawkes burst out into song during the middle of his violin solo on 'Ode to Joy'."

After much prodding from Macolm, Albus introduced himself to a rather stunned Cédrick. The violinist seemed stunned that Albus apologized for his familiar's bad behavior and the violinist insisted that Albus need not feel bad.

"No, I must be obstinate on my need to apologize," Albus insisted.

_Fawkes, get over here immediately! You need to apologize for interrupting "Ode to Joy". _

When Fawkes flew to his mage's shoulder where he melodiously chirped his sincerest apology to the gobsmacked Diggory, discussion in the room stopped. The extremely embarrassed Phoenix's head bobbled as he realized that he had been a conversation stopper and he quickly placed his head under his wing.

"There, there," Albus soothed his familiar. "He's quite embarrassed as he let his emotions overwhelm him into singing along. Fawkes enjoys music so much and regretfully, I don't allow him many chances to experience the joys of music firsthand. Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do at Hogwarts!"

"That's understandable, I'm very glad that Fawkes enjoyed the concert. Perhaps, he'll be at our next one?" Diggory eagerly questioned.

"We'll see," Albus quibbled, not wanting to give a definite answer. He wanted to survive tonight first before deciding on a repeat.

* * *

"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Macolm questioned after Albus finished working the room. "I believe that you've got an admirer, that man at the back keeps giving you the glad-eye. Watch out for him, Albus, he's gay as a goose!"

"Hush," protested Albus. "But you're quite correct. It wasn't that painful. In fact, some of the conversations were rather interesting."

"Now, to work a room, you just need to remember one thing about each person. You asked, and they were amazed and honored that you knew about their granddaughter, their play, their broken C string… That's why you need to read the society pages, Albus. You think it is all rubbish, and it is, but if you ever desire assistance from Reggie Griffiths at the Ministry, he'll remember commiserating with you about his broken C string during his last solo. He's quite passionate about the viola and finds these concerts a great stress reliever," explained the courtesan. "It makes people comfortable when you express an interest in their hobbies."

"Like ten-pin bowling?" Albus softly questioned.

"Actually, that did fascinate me," Malcolm teased. "Throwing a rubber ball down an alleyway to knock over wooden pins? Amazing!"

Albus looked around the room and realized that there were only a few hearty souls left. Even the Hogwarts trio had left, and he briefly remembered Galatea waving at him.

"Where is everyone?" questioned Albus.

"Went home, slipped into their jimjams and are now in bed," explained Malcolm. "Shall we say goodnight to our host? And then I'll take you home and put you to bed?"

There must be a whole flock of butterflies trapped in his belly; that was the only way for Albus to describe his feeling of delighted anticipation.

"Lets," Albus quickly answered.

* * *

Fawkes settled on his perch in Malcolm's living room, and deliberately put his head under his wing. He still had a marvelous view of the settee where the two men were sitting, but Albus believed that his familiar was settling down to sleep. The two men were softly talking and Malcolm was being quite reassuring to his frightened nestling of a mage. The older mage tenderly explained what would happen and how Albus was to inform him if anything made him uncomfortable. Promises exchanged, they then energetically began to snog.

Everything was going splendidly, and a bighearted Fawkes was only slightly saddened that his mage didn't wish to share this new experience with him. The Phoenix was quite compassionate at heart and he truly understood that his beloved Albus was such a wounded, reserved soul that he needed this delicate matter to be handled in a private, discreet manner. In time, Fawkes was sure that Albus would handle this situation in a properly proud Phoenixy manner.

The kissing continued for some time and Fawkes was sorely tempted to intervene to hurry them along. Albus had been waiting for decades for this experience, why this unnecessary delay? But his intercession, no matter how helpful, would no doubt humiliate Albus. He needed the confidence to spread his wings and fly, and sometimes, it took a nestling a little longer for his first flight.

A smiling Malcolm stood and held out his hand for a blushing Albus who clasped it. Then Malcolm guided Albus to the bathing room where there was much genuine laughter from both men when Albus realized that he had left his change of clothes at Hogwarts. Fawkes decided that the clothing could wait as he would return to Hogwarts for it only _**after**_ the consummation occurred.

Fortunately, only Albus went into the bathing room as it appeared that both men remembered Fawkes' strong insistence that mating in water was only for fishes. Not men! How silly would that be? His mage changed out of his clothes and slipped into the bubbling water where he had been instructed to just relax.

"You know Fawkes, you're going to get a crick in your neck," Malcolm informed Fawkes when he returned to his sitting room. "I know you're awake."

Fawkes didn't respond, as he was sleeping! _**SLEEPING**_! If Phoenix could snore, he would have!

"I'll take very good care of him," the courtesan quietly assured Fawkes. "First, I'll massage him and get rid of all that tension he's been holding inside. Then if he feels safe, we'll go from there. I won't do anything that he doesn't feel completely comfortable about. I'm rather fond of my face and I don't want an overly protective Phoenix streaking into my bedroom and wrecking havoc on my features."

That did it, Fawkes decided to stop shamming that he was sleeping and he hissed his displeasure at Malcolm. ATTACKING his Mage's Lover? Did the man think he was a CRUP? For good measure, he extended his razor sharp talons one by one, and a nervous Malcolm swallowed.

"Oy!" Malcolm whispered. "Ok, mental note to self, do not _**ever**_ tease a possessive Phoenix."

_He's __**my**__ mage. Hurt him, Glib Man, and what remains of you will wish you didn't. _

"Fawkes, I know you're quite worried about this. I'm not Gorilla Man; I don't believe sex should be a matter of dominance and supremacy. I assure you that I will make it a magnificent experience for Albus. He's really quite… sweet… and I can understand why you're so overly protective of him. You two have a very close bond," the courtesan said.

The Phoenix nodded once.

"What can you tell me about Gorilla Man? Albus deeply loved him, I can tell. Did he love Albus? At all? Was it just youthful stupidity that caused him to hurt Albus or was it something darker? I need to know, Fawkes."

The courtesan sounded earnest and Fawkes decided that he should trust him with such sensitive information. It was for Albus, afterall.

_Albus wasn't my mage when they met. But from what I know from Albus' memories, it was not youthful stupidity, it was something far darker. He was unbelievably Beautiful and he was Evil Incarnate._

_Fawkes, it wasn't… Grindelwald?_

Fawkes thought not a word.

_Bloody hell! Those scars that Albus has? Grindelwald attempted to castrate him! I thought that those wounds were too personal… I should have realized then!_

_He was unsuccessful. _

_Don't fret, Fawkes. I'll be very gentle with Albus. Will you be joining us in my bedroom?_

_No, _Fawkes sadly admitted. _He doesn't want me there. So I'll pretend to be asleep. But… but… but… I'm his familiar! I need to be close in case I am required to rescue him from you!_

_I'll leave my door open, Fawkes, and you should be able to see into the room to keep an eye on us. When an exhausted Albus is blissfully sleeping, I don't foresee any problems if you decided to perch on my headboard. After Albus is deeply asleep, you understand._

_Thank you._

_Errr… Fawkes. Your mage is rather innocent, but you DO know what happens between men, right? I don't have to worry about you attacking me during the… pinnacle? There may be some loud exclamations… It __**won't**__ be pain causing him to cry out, Fawkes.  
_

_I have shared Albus' dreams since we bonded as Mage and Familiar. Yes, I know how it is done between men. I am there when he self-mates, and I know the sounds he makes. _

_This has certainly been a very educational weekend for me, Fawkes. I never realized that Phoenixes were…_

_Sentient?_ Fawkes stated in an amused, superior tone.

_So involved in their mages' sex lives. I'm quite honored that you decided to share that information with me._

Fawkes regally nodded his head once in acknowledgement and then tucked his head beneath his wing. Yes, if he moved over to the right, he had a perfect view of Malcolm's bed.

* * *

His mage took far too long to dry himself off and Fawkes was nearly vibrating in his excitement. Truly, Malcolm was far more patient that Fawkes would be if he was a wizard. He was aching for Albus!

At last, Albus exited the bathing room, and Malcolm held out his hand. For a moment, Fawkes just _**KNEW**_ that Albus was about to turn tail and fly from the room, but then Albus glanced upon him for reassurance. Fortunately, the Phoenix still had his head tucked underneath his wing, so he appeared asleep.

_I need to be a bold mage worthy of such a magnificent Familiar. _

Albus then walked into Malcolm's bedroom and took off his robe. Instinctively, he tensed, waiting for a cruel comment or three. He had never been particularly handsome and now there were those horrid purple scars.

Instead, there was a sharp intake of breath as Malcolm seemed to appreciate the tasty Albus. Why shouldn't he? Fawkes' mage was lean and trim and Fawkes had often overheard risqué comments regarding Albus' physique.

Malcolm guided him to the bed where Albus was instructed to lie face down on the bed. He was then covered with warm, moist towels. They were so soothing to his tense muscles that Fawkes nearly sighed in shared relief before he sternly reminded himself that he was _**sleeping**_.

Malcolm's hands were quite deft while they kneaded and massaged Albus' tight muscles, easing taunt muscles into relaxing.

Perhaps relaxing wasn't the correct word, Fawkes thought. While Albus' muscular tension was easing, there was a noticeable increase in another type of tension for Albus. His mage was becoming more and more aware of Malcolm, not just the feel of Malcolm's hands on his body but the smell of his cologne and his melodious voice. It was a warm feeling that was filling Albus and Malcolm seemed completely unaffected, as his hands continued to thoroughly caress, massage and rubdown Albus.

Was this how it was among men? Phoenixes lived in the here and now, and the delaying pleasure was unheard of. If Fawkes had been Albus, he would have mated with Malcolm a dozen or so times already, but no… Malcolm was deliberately drawing out the seduction.

"Turn over," whispered Malcolm, and Albus did so, shivering in anticipation, wanting so very much for Malcolm to touch him _**there**_.

Yet Malcolm didn't. No, instead he continued to unwrap small bits of Albus, massage them thoroughly and then recover them with the warm, moist heat. How soothing it was, as Albus' muscles finally unknotted from all his internal stress, yet… how _**not**_ calming the massage was. Albus was completely focused on his increasing desire and still Malcolm continued his slow, methodical massage.

At last, only THAT spot was untouched. Malcolm's hands carefully uncovered it, and then ceased.

"Shall I?" Malcolm intensely whispered.

Albus nodded his head.

"Please say it," whispered the courtesan. "I want to hear you say it."

"Please," pleaded Albus.

Then Malcolm leaned over and with his mouth… oh. That unbelievable warmth inside Albus was flooding through Fawkes and he felt _**everything**_ Albus did. When Albus soared in flight, Fawkes was so in tune with his mage, that he Burned.

_Early_.

A whole week early.

How embarrassing, Fawkes the chick thought, as he struggled to maintain his perch. But an early, uncontrolled Burn was not the final humiliation for Fawkes, It was falling off the perch and landing in the still hot ashes of his former glorious scarlet and gold feathers.

Eeep.

_Albus? _Fawkes, while he really didn't wish to interrupt Albus and his lover, Fawkes _**was**_ rather defenseless at the moment.

No answer.

Fawkes sniffed his disgust, and he sniffed again, realizing that something smelled awfully familiar in Malcolm's rooms.

No. No, no! It couldn't be! It simply couldn't be.

_Malcolm?_ Pleaded Fawkes.

The flightless Fawkes smelled _**Cat**_.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N # 1 – Well not 2 of 2. Not so fluffy any more. My noble attempt at writing a short, fluffy piece was sabotaged by a certain character. (Glares at Albus). But the end is in sight!

A/N # 2 - AD/ED, AD/GG and AD/MOC

* * *

For a moment, Albus Dumbledore had been _**flying**_, soaring high above the clouds and now, he was gliding back to the ground. The man next to him was inordinately pleased with himself, if his Cheshire grin was any indication.

"Close your eyes," Malcolm whispered. "Just drift…"

There was another warm blanket that was placed on him. It was just heavy enough to make Albus quite reluctant to move anymore than he needed. It was hard to stay awake, as he was deliciously relaxed and just so pleasantly exhausted. His hip wasn't in spasms and his shoulder was pain free. Truly, this must be heaven.

"I'll… fall asleep then," protested Albus. His eyes were quite heavy and it took all of his remaining energy to say that much.

"That's the idea, love."

Albus swallowed and opened his mouth to voice a protest. Instead, he was thoroughly snogged into complete silence.

"You're not being rude, love. You've had an incredibly eventful day today and you need to sleep. Tomorrow, I promise that before the sparrow farts that I'll wake you in the very best possible way," his lover assured him.

_**Lover**_. What a truly magnificent word, Albus thought even as he tried not to laugh at the very absurd idea that dainty little sparrows… farted…

Yes. Lover. The chaste Brother Albus Dumbledore of Godric Gryffindor's Monastery had taken a _**lover**_… Oh, the delicious scandal of it all. Sister Galatea of the Perpetual Pleasures would insist on a full confession and demand that he recount every sordid detail.

"Terribly rude of me just to roll over and fall asleep," whispered Albus.

"Well, if you roll toward me, we can cuddle and talk until you fall asleep," suggested Malcolm. The two men did so and then Malcolm began stroking Albus' hair. "I hope you enjoyed what I did. I know you had remarked on your survey that you didn't want to do that…"

"It was… beggaring all description," admitted a still stunned Albus. Now, he finally understood why Gellert had always harangued him to do _**that**_.

"I believed that you might enjoy it more being on the receiving end rather than giving…" explained Malcolm. "Was I correct?"

"It was far nicer… than I expected."

_**Nicer**_? He was damning the experience with faint praise. There had been _**fireworks**_.

They lay in silence for a bit, Malcolm continuing to stroke Albus' hair and Albus hesitantly began to explore Malcolm's body with his fingertips. His lover had insisted that he was podgy, but Albus thought Malcolm was in marvelous shape. Lovely, broad shoulders, incredible hands, not too much body hair and yes, Malcolm had the slightest tummy from a decadent life well-spent. He was… _**comfy**_, like a pair of woolen socks on a cold night.

"Should I have done something with my hands? I just lay there…" A shamed Albus softly questioned. "You did _**everything**_ while I was dead-a-bed."

He was kissed on the top of his head and hugged.

"You did fine, love. I enjoyed holding your hands while I kissed you all over. It was far yummier for me that way. Much better than you grabbing my ears and ramming your wand down my throat. I might have choked! Tomorrow, you can play with me to your heart's content. Now go to sleep, Albus."

And so he did.

* * *

_**Albus?**_ Fawkes softly thought. Not too loudly as he didn't want to draw attention to himself. The cat sniffed and Fawkes sunk deeper into the pile of ash.

Oh woe! His mage was asleep and he was about to be eaten by a hungry feline. What an inauspicious end for Fawkes! Perhaps Fawkes shouldn't have tried so hard to get Albus into Malcolm's nest that he had ignored the telltale signs of a premature Burn. Yes, he should have stayed home at Hogwarts where he would have been safe, but Albus had needed him to nudge him along.

Even face to face with his imminent death, Fawkes did not begrudge Albus his carnal enjoyment. His mage had been quite delightedly surprised with the night's events.

The cat sniffed and detected the smell of roasted Phoenix. With a mighty thump, he jumped onto the settee, where he rummaged through Malcolm's jacket. The tom found Fawkes' feather and attacked it.

_**HIS FEATHER**_! That very same one that Fawkes had generously donated in the noble cause to get Albus sexed! The cat had gotten it!

But… but… but… Albus might want that one last feather to remember him by!

* * *

His client had finally drifted off into a deep, restorative sleep. Malcolm watched the man, universally declared the greatest mage since Merlin, sleep, wanting to be certain that Albus wouldn't wake when he left their bed. It was charming, as when he was slumbering, Albus' grief and pain ravaged face softened into someone a great deal younger. The whore found himself feeling … protective … of his punter.

_Not very experienced, are you, love? Or perhaps, you are far too knowledgeable. Your Dark Wizard cared only for his sexual gratification and you were the one selected to provide it. No wonder you were so fearful._

_This afternoon, you'll introduce me to your overly protective friends and I will slowly walk their gauntlet, refusing to run, so that they can be assured that I have your best interests at heart. I do, you know, as I take extreme pride in my work. I hope that you will have a bounce in your step and that you will be wearing the happy glow of a man that has been repeatedly and deliciously shagged. _

_Sleep, my sweet Albus, as I need to reassure Madame Esme that all has gone well. Plus, I promised Fawkes that he could join us. _

Malcolm sat on the edge of the bed and mentally debated if he should grab something to wrap around his nethers. Well, maybe he better as Fawkes was a Phoenix, after all. Decorum must be maintained though Malcolm, a natural born hedonist, was quite comfortable walking around au naturale. Besides, Mistoffelees, Esme's tom cat and messenger, possessed sharp claws. He was Hired for the weekend, and it was imperative that he keep all his parts in working condition as Esme and her stable staff desperately wanted Albus to be happy.

When he found Mistoffelees investigating Fawkes' perch in his living room with a Phoenix feather in its mouth and no sign of Fawkes, Malcolm had to admit to a rare outbreak of panic.

How the bloody hell was he supposed to inform Albus that Fawkes had gotten eaten?

"_**Bugger**_!" Malcolm hissed before unleashing a string of vile curses in a dozen different languages. "_**Mistoffelees**_!"

* * *

Fortunately, the courtesan had entered the room just as the cat was getting too close for the flightless Fawkes' comfort.

"You're _**DEAD**_," an angry Malcolm growled at the cat. "Then Albus will murder me and then Esme! Then he'll wipe out London and most of Europe! You cursed cat, you _**ATE**_ Fawkes and unknowingly just unleashed a magical holocaust on all of Eastern and Western Europe!"

_I'm still here__**,**_ Fawkes softly announced.

"Fawkes? Where are you?" Malcolm questioned.

_In the ashes. I __**Burned**__ early! _

Malcolm walked over to the perch where he began to rummage through the ashes. He found Fawkes, and cupped him in his right hand. Carefully, he brushed the vestiges of the old Fawkes off the newly reborned Phoenix and Fawkes crooned his appreciation. Fawkes was vain, and he hated appearing dusty.

"I should wake Albus," Malcolm decided. "He'll want to know that you Burned early."

_No! He's asleep and I didn't have to sing him to sleep! Let him sleep! There's nothing he can do for me now, and he'll just fuss over me. Albus needs his sleep! _Fawkes sternly protested. Then in a pleading tone, the Phoenix continued. _I'll be fine. Could you please fill a basin with hot water so I can get the ash out of my feathers?_

"Would my bathtub do instead?" Malcolm questioned. "I'll put the jets on?"

_YES!_ Fawkes agreed. Then remembering that he must maintain the reputation of Phoenixes everywhere, he added in a more controlled tone, _The bubbles will help ease my itching of my skin. _

"Burning must take a great deal out of you. Are you hungry? Perhaps some champagne and strawberries might not be amiss?" Malcolm asked.  
_  
__**Fizzy drink**__? _Fawkes hopefully repeated. _I believe that might be …most… helpful in my recovery. Burning does take a great deal out of me and the bubbles might help speed my healing. _

"Just a wee amount," Malcolm decided. "Let me prepare the bath for you. Mistoffelees, I desire that feather back."

The cat spat the feather out and then ignored it, as though he hadn't been attacking it mere moments before.

"Let's put you in the bath, my pretty Fawkes."

* * *

The Phoenix busy splashing in his tub; Malcolm returned back to the business at hand. Esme desired a report. He hadn't mentioned it to Albus, but Oswald and a few of the other stable managers had been at the Weasley's party, and they had not been pleased to see that Albus was being squired by one of Esme's boys. Too bad for them, as they had lost a great many galleons betting on which stable Albus would decide to try first. He really needed to figure out how much he had won by betting on Esmeralda. Truthfully, he had only bet on his own stable out of a sense of propriety pride in one's workplace.

_My dearest Esmeralda,_

_Relax. Client seems quite delighted with yours truly. Even now, he is soundly sleeping in the hopes he can regain his strength for tomorrow's strenuous activities. My intentions for tomorrow are scandalous and quite exhausting. _

_Best regards,_

_al-Hamal A.B.V.S.R._

Esme would definitely know the missive was from him as he had signed it with all his various names, birth and adopted. Hopefully, Albus wouldn't put two and two together to realize who he really was as Malcolm knew that revelation would put a damper on the weekend's festivities. While he was wishing fishes had wings, he put a request in that Elphias Doge was blessed with a short memory, as he doubted Elphias was as dim-witted as everyone had claimed. While Albus didn't seem to remember it, a Ravenclaw by the name of Mal had intervened when firsties Albus and Elphias had been set upon by a pack of Slytherin. For Mal's trouble, he had earned detention and a long, sanctimonious lecture from his true father about the impropriety of brawling with wands.

"Mistoffelees, please give this to your mistress," Malcolm requested. The cat took the note and then disappeared.

That done, it was time to get Fawkes out of his bathtub. When he had been re-reading Newt Scamander's _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ in preparation for Albus, Malcolm had completely missed the paragraph where Newt explained that Phoenixes enjoyed strawberry champagne and splashing in Jacuzzis. Nor had Newt mentioned how Phoenix delighted in taking a proactive role in their mage's love life. The familiar had done everything short of pecking Albus to get him into Malcolm's bed. Perhaps, he should drop a short note of reprimand to Newt on his shoddy work along with a list of suggested improvements in order to give the next generation of courtesans sufficient warning.

"At least this weekend has been educational," Malcolm admitted with a laugh. "Thank Merlin that I was born with a dearth of shame."

* * *

The chick Fawkes was carefully wrapped in Albus' muffler and placed in the drawer of the nightstand nearest the sleeping Albus. That done, Malcolm decided it was past time to wake Albus in the very best possible way, and so he did.

They were cuddling in the afterglow when Albus spoke.

"I'm… surprised," he whispered.

"That it was even better the second time?" Malcolm quipped. "Just imagine how the third time will be!"

"No…well… yes… but no… I'm just surprised that Fawkes hasn't commented nor has he attempted to use your headboard as a perch," explained Albus. He blushed as he put into plain words what he meant, "He's usually rather… vocal…"

"Albus?" Malcolm hesitantly spoke. "Fawkes had a premature Burn last night."

"_**What**_?" Albus protested. He sat upright, and he was so shocked that he didn't bother to wrap the blanket around him. "What _**happened**_? Why did he not tell me? Where is he?"

"He didn't wish to disturb you as you were sleeping. I brushed Fawkes off, allowed him to bathe in my tub, fed and watered him. He's currently sleeping off a little too much strawberry champagne in the nightstand drawer."

In his concern for his familiar, Albus ignored Malcolm's explanation. Instead, he quickly got out of the bed so that he could examine Fawkes. He didn't bother to Charm a robe into existence, so Malcolm got quite the gander.

_Damn it, I shouldn't have listened to Fawkes. If Albus is so worried about Fawkes that he's not even the slightest bit concerned that he's giving me a free peep show then I made the wrong decision. Damn it, damn it, damn it!_

"Fawkes?" Albus' voice was loving and concerned. "Talk to me. Are you alright? Why didn't you tell me that you Burned early? I would have been there for you."

The Phoenix chick chirped and rubbed his beak against Albus' cheek.  
_  
You were __**nesting**__! This wasn't my first burn so I didn't need you with me. I would have liked you there, but you were busy __**nesting**__! Malcolm has wonderful hands, doesn't he? You enjoyed nesting with him, and you should get back into his nest! The day is still early! You can still nest!_

"I should take you home to Hogwarts so you can rest in your nest."

_No! I'm nesting in your muffler. It's nice and soft plus it smells like you. My other nests smell like perfume, not like you! Malcolm made me a very nice nest and you promised that I could go to your party today! I want to see Leah and Elphias today! I don't want to return to Hogwarts._

Mage and familiar had a long discussion which finally ended with the bullying Phoenix being the victor. Albus placed his familiar back into his nest and it was then that he realized that he was absolutely bloody starkers in front of a very interested audience. He flushed, and instinctively put his hands over the scars on his hip.

"I wish you wouldn't cover yourself, Albus," Malcolm said. He kept his tone light. "I quite like the view, and you're insisting on hiding the very best part."_  
_

"My scars… they're hideous… when I was in the hospital… the mediwitches commented on them…" admitted Albus. "They thought I was sleeping, but I heard what they said."

_Any lover he takes will flee, screaming, from his bed.  
_  
"No doubt they were shrews! Miserable harpies as they realized that no matter how lovingly they nursed you, you would never fall in love with them! Why? Because they lacked the proper equipment!" Malcolm then chuckled. "Come now, love. Put your hands down and let me admire you. It's so rare that I get someone who is so trim and lovely in my bed."_  
_

That round of encouragement caused Albus to blush even harder. Malcolm softly sighed and got out of the bed. Unlike Albus, he didn't care a lick that he was completely naked.

"Come on, love. Let me take you to mirror so I can show you what I see," insisted Malcolm.

He held out his hand and Albus placed his hand in Malcolm's hand. The courtesan pulled Albus close against him, and then marched him over to his mirror. The two men stood facing the two meter tall mirror, Malcolm standing behind Albus and Albus' face was crimson.

"What do you see in the mirror?" Malcolm asked.

"A rather mortified mage with horrible scars," Albus dryly admitted. "Don't you see him?"

"I don't…."

"Perhaps you need a pair of spectacles," offered Albus. "I can recommend someone."

"That's not what I see in the mirror. Listen to me while I tell you about the mage I perceive in the mirror. I observe someone that's so delicious and fit, who doesn't have the slightest bit of tummy. He's got a lovely neck that I'm longing to smother with kisses."

Malcolm repeatedly kissed Albus' neck before he continued with his dissertation.

"The man in the mirror has lovely blue eyes but they're so sad because he's had his fill of pain and despair. I believe that he deserves the taste of joy, don't you?" questioned Malcolm. The courtesan placed his hands on Albus' face. "He's got this lovely short beard and simply marvelous chin. I wonder why he's hiding it beneath the beard."

"There's a scar," confessed Albus.

"We all have scars, Albus. We go through life picking up various dings and scrapes. Your shoulders, while they're quite lovely as they're broad and muscular, are blemished. You do have scars on your left shoulder. But those scars aren't ugly, love. They represent Peace and Victory, as you saved us from that horrible, horrible monster. You have such strong shoulders, capable of carrying the weight of the world on them."

Albus shook his head to protest.

"Victory always comes at a cost, Albus. If Peace was free, we wouldn't appreciate how dear the price is. People die in the name of Peace, Albus, good people, bad people and innocent people. You stood against Gellert."

"I should have done it earlier," Albus confessed.

"Perhaps, but in the end, when it mattered, you stood and fought. You went to war for all of us. For the Muggles who didn't understand for what you were fighting, the pure bloods who are so involved with their lineages and their purity they didn't realize how close they were to extinction. You fought for your students at Hogwarts, for Fawkes and for plump whores like me. You stood against the encroaching darkness for dense men too blinkered to realize that you're so much more than just a gay instructor at a boarding school. You fought for the mix-bloods like Filius Flitwick who has experienced discrimination all his life and you battled for your lusty friend, Galatea Merrythought. Those scars are not ugly, they're _**beautiful**_, Albus. I don't think you realize that they add to your beauty, they do not detract."

Albus attempted to protest and Malcolm continued to lecture until a stunned Albus had to admit that perhaps Malcolm was right. His scars were not as hideous as he had once believed them to be.

His coursework learned, Albus was taken back to bed for a most wonderful reward from his loving instructor.

* * *

"Now, you ready? We're heading to Germany for your godson's present," Malcolm questioned after the two of them had finished tucking in breakfast. "Fawkes safe?"

"Yes," agreed Albus after a quick check on the satchel where Fawkes the chick was secured. "I don't understand why we're going all the way to Germany for a stuffed animal."

"Not just any stuffed animal, a Madame Zenzi bear, Albus. They're simply marvelous! My children loved their Zenzi bears."

"You have children?" Albus questioned.

"Forget I let that slip, shall we?" Malcolm implored. "Two of my half brothers aren't aware of that their family tree has a few stray branches. I'd truly prefer if they didn't know."

"How many?" Albus asked. "I didn't know that you were married."

"Actually, I've never been married. Some of us are best left living the happy life of a bachelor." Malcolm gave Albus a broad smile, obvious in his hopes that Albus would just let the subject matter drop.

"How many?" Albus repeated, as he was simply stunned that Malcolm had sired children out of wedlock.

"Five," Malcolm admitted. "Three daughters, two sons. They loved their Zenzi bears, so shall we be going?"

"She doesn't mind how you make your living?" Albus questioned.

Long moment of silence before Malcolm admitted, "Errr… they don't mind."

"They?" Albus pounced on the pronoun. They… not … she.

"The women were friends, former co-workers, if you will. They wanted children and well…not many men would willingly marry an ex-whore. They're set up very nicely in their retirement as one of my half-brothers was generous with me. My step-father was also quite charitable with me, so I don't really need to make my way through life as a rent-boy."

"Then why do you?" questioned Albus.

"Because it truly pissed off my father," Malcolm confessed. "He had such high standards, nose up in the air with his pure blood supremacy. Bad enough that he fell from grace and fathered me with a much younger woman, but then I just refused to behave. As he often told me, I got my intractability from my mother as she's the one that decided to seduce my father."

Malcolm grinned but Albus realized that's all he'd get on Malcolm's background. "Very well, shall we go to Zenzi?"

* * *

Zenzi was a short, round witch who seemed quite familiar with Malcolm. She was expecting them, as she bustled them into her shop the minute they Apparated into the alleyway.

"Another bear for your granddaughter?" She asked Malcolm.

Albus ignored their chatter as he was simply amazed by her store. There hundreds of animals in various forms, shapes, colors and sizes. How would he be able to pick the correct one? There was a brown bear that seemed to speak to him, telling Albus that he'd be the perfect bear for a little boy, so he picked it up, marveling at how soft the fur was. Then he saw the price tag and he realized that he barely had enough in his accounts to pay for it.

But it was perfect… and really, who else did he have to spend his money on? His brother had refused his offers of financial assistance during that tawdry incident with the goat. No, Aberforth had continued to bartend, his head held high. Albus cuddled the bear in his arms and he was amazed when the bear reacted by molding itself to him. Yes, this would be a comforting toy for a young child. His sister…. He tried not to tear up when he thought of her and this time, as always, he failed… his sister would have possibly gotten some comfort from one of these bears.

"No, no, no. Her mother is quite vexed with me as I'm spoiling her. This is my friend, Al. He needs a very special bear."

Madame Zenzi was quite proud of her bears as she interrupted, "All my bears are exceptional, Malcolm."

"I know, I know, but this is for his godson. He's still in the womb, but Al wishes to gift him with one of your bears."

Zenzi examined Albus and her eyes widened.

"You didn't tell me who your friend is," Zenzi tersely informed Malcolm. "You can't have any of these bears, Herr Dumbledore."

This was unusual, most of the time people insisted on giving him things gratis when they recognized his crooked nose. Albus always insisted on paying as it wasn't right to accept gifts from strangers who were often in worse financial straights than he was. Gellert's unholy quest for power had destroyed so much of the wizarding world infrastructure that far too many people were barely surviving.

"I quite like this one," Albus insisted. "Why can I not have it?"

"It's not good enough for you. My apprentices made those bears. For your godson, you need a special bear. You need one made by me! Come, come! Into my workroom," ordered Zenzi. She took the bear from Albus and placed it back among its comrades. "Come now!"

Malcolm winked at Albus, which earned him a shake of Albus' head.

"I can barely afford that bear. I can imagine how dear one of her special bears is," protested Albus in a very soft voice.

"Don't worry about the price, Herr Dumbledore. Let us find the proper bear and then we'll haggle," Madame Zenzi informed him. "But I want you to sit in the chair, first. It's very important that we find the proper bear."

He sat in the dilapidated chair and Albus felt as though he was being Sorted once more.

"This is for your godson? Think about his father," she instructed. "Close your eyes. What is he like?"

Albus thought of Elphias. Dear, sweet Elphias who was his closest friend, whom he had once deeply loved and whom he had horribly wounded with his unhealthy infatuation. He thought about how intelligent Elphias truly was, how everyone made the mistake of underestimating him as Elphias wished to thoroughly examine every side of an issue before he came to his decision. Elphias' easy laugh filled his mind. Elphias was kind, considerate and brave. He'd be a wonderful father.

"That's good, now think of his mother," Zenzi ordered.

Leah was so much younger than Elphias. Elphias had given up on love, believing that he was completely unworthy of such joy. Then one day, he had intervened in a heated argument between a man and a woman. The woman had been Leah, the abusive man, her soon to be ex-husband. A divorcee in these unenlightened days? Simply dismissed as a scarlet woman, and yet Elphias had befriended her and helped her with the complicated divorce requirements. Their friendship had turned deeper until they were engaged. Once they were betrothed, Leah had tracked down Albus so that he and Elphias could repair their friendship. She was comfortable enough in her relationship with Elphias not to fear the reappearance of Elphias' first love.

Kindly, loving Leah probably understood him even better than Elphias did.

The announcement of her pregnancy had been the catalyst for him to face Gellert, as Albus knew that he needed to protect the child from Gellert. Leah had understood the reason for his decision to confront Gellert and she had sworn a solemn vow to never tell Elphias.

Sweet, comforting Leah. Her son was so lucky to have her.

How he envied Elphias!

"Very well, Herr Dumbledore, I believe that this is the bear for you," Zenzi announced.

Albus opened his eyes and Zenzi placed a large stuffed animal in his arms. It had marbled fur and bright eyes. He cuddled it, feeling warmed, comforted and loved… and then he inhaled.

"It smells of Leah," he whispered. Yes, the bear smelled of Leah, of home, of baking bread, of sun and happiness.

Truly a remarkable gift! No matter what the cost, no matter how much he needed to borrow, he would buy this bear!

"Plus, the babe will hear his mother's heartbeat when he cuddles it. It has the standard health and protection spells, but I'm sure Herr Dumbledore's spells will be far more potent than mine," Zenzi explained.

"Thank you," Albus said. "This is truly amazing. How much?"

"It is yours," Zenzi insisted. The witch's tone plainly asserted that Albus would not be paying for the bear.

"I insist. Let me pay," protested Albus. The witch's shop had seen better days, and it was apparent that she could use his coin.

"No," insisted the witch.

"Please," Albus insisted.

In answer, she rolled up a long sleeve. There was a number tattooed on her forearm and when Albus sharply inhaled, she deliberately covered it once more.

Bloody hell, the witch had been in a Muggle concentration camp. When Gellert had fallen, the German Muggles War effort had faltered and the Yanks had stormed in, all fire and no manners, but yet still a force for good that righted the previous Muggle regime's atrocities.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered. "So many lost..."

"I am Sinti. There will be no talk of money owed, Herr Dumbledore, nor talk of sorrowful apologies. You will take the bear," she ordered.

She carefully wrapped the bear and then escorted the two men to the door.

"Be well," was what she said, but it sounded more like a command then a blessing.

"I didn't realize that she was a Gypsy," Albus said to Malcolm. "For that matter, I didn't realize that Gypsy had mages. I wish she would have accepted my payment."

"Gypsy mages do not willingly leave their non-magical brethren, even when they were rounded up and sent to the camps. If one could not escape, then they all remained." Malcolm explained. "As for payment, quite a few people witnessed you going into her shop and coming out with a bear. She'll have more business than she'll be able to handle when the word gets out."

"Finally, my reputation will do someone some good," dryly quipped Albus.

"Come, it's time to go to your little party. Any idea on how many people will be attending?" Malcolm questioned.

"I don't expect that many as Leah said that she was getting a few friends of mine together," Albus said. "Maybe ten or so? I really don't have that many friends."

Albus ignored Malcolm's rude snort of disbelief.

* * *

They arrived at the Doge's cottage a tad bit early and Albus nervously brushed invisible dust off his clothes. Fawkes gave a reassuring chirp from his container as he had refused to miss the party.

"You look fine," Malcolm assured him. "You look more than fine. You look happy, Albus."

"Do I?" Albus questioned.

Malcolm gazed at the other mage, and mentally compared him to the nervous man who had accidentally assaulted him with a floral bouquet a mere twenty four hours before. Truly, in his completely biased though professional opinion, Malcolm had done wonders with Albus. Gone to places unknown was that shy, anxious man, instead in his place, there was stood a self-confident mage that laughed and smiled. Albus' face was glowing as he had been repeatedly shagged and pleasured.

"Would you just mind walking three or four steps for me?" Malcolm requested.

Albus did so, even though his countenance said that Malcolm was being quite the daft praft.

"Yes, there's a bounce in your step." Malcolm then proudly stated, "I put it there."

"Albus!" A female voice cried from the door. "You're here! I was worried that you might decide to create a crisis so you wouldn't have to attend."

"No, no crisis, Leah!" Albus assured her.

Leah Doge came into sight and Malcolm was surprised when he realized how much younger Leah was than Albus. The witch was in her early thirties! Albus was kissed and hugged by the very pregnant Leah and then she turned to face him.

"And you're Albus' friend?"

"Yes, I'm Malcolm. I've heard so much about you and your husband that I feel that I already know you," he suavely assured her.

The witch quirked one eyebrow, quietly informing him that she recognized a con job and that he was still on probation with her.

"Flowers?" He offered the bouquet to her. They were a mixture of stargazers, roses and other flowers and Leah seemed surprised. Albus had informed him what her favorite colors were and what flowers she had liked, so she should like the bouquet.

To his surprise, the carefully arranged flowers did not improve her opinion on him. No, instead, Leah was _**more**_, not less, unhappy about him squiring Albus.

"Albus! You came!" Elphias shouted. He tightly embraced his dear friend and the two men kissed each other on the lips, and Malcolm noticed that Leah was watching his reaction to that. He kept his expression blank as short of a greeting that turned into an orgy of a Bacchanalian delight, nothing truly rattled him anymore. For good measure, he decided to watch her as her husband and Albus were still tightly hugging.

"_Their closeness doesn't bother me as I know where I stand in my husband's affections", _was what she was subconsciously stating, so he answered her with,_ "I haven't noticed anything abnormal". _

"They're good friends," she tersely informed him.

"I know," he assured her. "Close friends are rarities that need to be treasured."

His answer seemed to surprise her and Malcolm detected a slight lessening in her animosity towards him. Not too much, but Leah believed that there was the slightest possibility that she had misjudged Albus' paramour.

_My goodness, she is quite protective of you, Albus. _

"What do you do for a living?" Leah volleyed.

"I'm a therapist," Malcolm explained. "I work with people so that they can become comfortable with who they are."

Yes, technically it was the truth, as he did a great deal of therapeutic work with his clients. It was just that most of his work was done horizontally, clothing optional, with a minimum of chin wagging.

"Albus is comfortable with who he is," she tersely informed him. "He doesn't need to change anything about himself."

"That's an untruth," he retorted. "If he was comfortable with himself, then he would have allowed you to throw this little party for him when you first wanted to do so. He's only rescheduled it a half-dozen times."

Leah glared at him and Malcolm wondered if she was related to his father's wife. She was the only woman who had ever taken such an instinctive dislike to him, quite possibly as the six week old Malcolm had peed a liter or three on Ursula's leg. The unspoken battle between Leah the Titian and Malcolm the Hedonistic was about to see another round commence when an oblivious Albus interrupted.

"Are you two getting along?" Albus hopefully questioned. "It's very important to me that you two hit it off."

"Leah and I are getting along splendidly," assured Malcolm. He was echoed by Leah and he was surprised that his false assurances didn't sound as bogus to Albus as they did to him. "Don't forget the present, Albus."

"Oh yes, I have a present for your son," Albus explained. "I hope you like it. Malcolm helped me pick it out."

"Well, let's come inside, so you can greet your guests," Elphias inserted. His voice was as wheezy as Malcolm recalled, but fortunately Doge didn't seem to remember meeting Malcolm before. It was a good thing as two firsties being held upside down while being ridiculed by a group of Snakes was a rather traumatic memory.

"There's only a few guests right?" Albus nervously questioned. "You never did give me the guest list."

Malcolm reached for Albus' hand and gave it a squeeze, "I'm here, remember that."

His reassurance caused Albus' countenance to brighten, and Leah's face to darken.

* * *

Albus walked into the room and he was greeted by a loud chorus of "Huzzahs!"

The noise shocked him, as he took a step back, and the crowd laughed. Not at his expense, but just because they were a good natured bunch and they enjoyed having surprised him. Malcolm knew better, as he realized that Albus was about to turn tail and run for the hills. There were _**dozens**_ of people here.

Bill Weasley and his clan, Morgan Moody and his brood, Galatea Merrythought, Filius Flitwick, Horace Slughorn plus a few other Hogwarts instructors. Yes, that was the one-eyed Silvanus Kettleburn and the fair haired soul could only be the Herbology instructor, Herbert Beery. There was a giant of a lad, with coarse black hair, who was so overwhelmed that he literally picked up Albus and squeezed him hard enough to break his ribs.

"'orry, Professor," the giant rumbled.

"That's alright, Hagrid," Albus wheezed. "No ribs broken."

There was Ollivander who had managed to escape from his wand shop, a dark haired girl wearing Hogwarts gowns whose patches implied that she was Gryffindor and Head Girl to boot. She was bookended by two people who must be her parents as that was the only way a Hogwarts student could escape from the school on a weekend. She was grinning broadly and to his horror, the girl was giving Malcolm a very appraising eye.

Really, she wasn't old enough to be a client, yet she seemed delighted in what she was viewing. It was all a trifle unnerving for Malcolm and it was sure to be worse for the diffident Albus.

"There are so many people here," whispered a blushing Albus. "You told me that only a few friends would be here."

"Your friends wanted to be here," Leah explained to Albus. "And you have more than a few friends."

There was a grumpy, dodgy looking soul in the back. Good God, that wasn't who he thought it was? No… he and Albus were most assuredly not on speaking terms. Albus saw the disreputable soul and his mouth dropped.

"_Aberforth_?" He whispered.

"Leah browbeat me until I promised to show up for this little shindig. You can tell who wears the pants in the family," Aberforth growled.

Albus said not a word, plainly disbelieving that his brother had attended.

"Now I'll just finish setting up," Leah announced. "Malcolm, thank you for offering to help me."

Malcolm had done no such thing but he recognized it as a feint to get him and the High Inquisitioner alone. It was time to take their battle to a private location where no one would be the wiser.

"I'd love to help you," he cooed.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N # 1 – Well not 2 of 2. Not so fluffy any more. My noble attempt at writing a short, fluffy piece was sabotaged by a certain character. (Glares at Albus). But the end is in sight!

A/N # 2 - AD/ED, AD/GG and AD/MOC

----------------------------------------

"But first, Albus, don't forget the present," Malcolm suggested. "And let's get poor Fawkes out of the bag and someplace comfortable where he can oversee the festivities!"

"Fawkes is here? Where is he?" Leah questioned. "I don't see him."

_Here I am! _Fawkes happily announced from the depths of Albus' satchel. Only a few people could hear the Phoenix, as the elitistFawkes limited his mental conversation to those honored souls he had declared as "Not Stupid". Whether the lucky recipients of Fawkes' wit believed themselves fortunate or not was unknown.

"Albus? Fawkes in your satchel?" repeated a displeased Leah. "What's he doing in your _**satchel**_?"

_I Burned early_, a flustered Fawkes admitted. _Albus wanted to return me to Hogwarts but I wanted to see you! I've missed you. You __**never**__ visit me! _

Malcolm unsuccessfully swallowed his laugh. Sometimes, Fawkes' supreme self-assurance in his role as the center of the universe was rather amusing.

_Or Albus either_, Fawkes quickly added when he realized why Malcolm was snickering. _You and Elphias never visit Albus, and he's quite despondent! He's downhearted! I have to cheer him every day! I have to sing to him! He's fortunate to have such a dedicated and loving comrade!  
_

Malcolm hid his mouth behind his hand, attempted to appear serious but instead he bust out in merry laughter.

"Fawkes, from personal experience, never, _**ever**_ attempt to guilt a pregnant woman," Malcolm gasped in between chuckles. "It's a no win situation."

"_**Much**_ experience with pregnant woman?" snapped Leah.

Fawkes, even though being a rather young Phoenix and not having grasped the complexity of human interaction, realized that the situation was rapidly going south. And Albus was doing… nothing! _**NOTHING**_! It was once again the long-suffering and selfless Fawkes' responsibility to save Albus from his greatest danger, himself! Couldn't Albus sense that Leah and Malcolm were not happy with each other? They were eyeing each other like two mages about to hurl some particularly heinous Hexes.

Truly, sometimes a despairing Fawkes believed that his mage was simply not perceptive enough to truly appreciate having Fawkes! By now everyone else had taken the temperature of the room and decided to leave the combatants to their verbal battle. The eternally observant Moodys had already made their egress into the garden.

_Present! Present! We brought a present for the egg!_ Fawkes interrupted as he feared that an overly protective Leah was close to Cursing Malcolm and in front of the guests no less! _Open! __**Open**__! It's a marvelous present for the egg! I helped pick the present so you know it's wonderful! Phoenixes have exquisite taste._

"It's a baby, Fawkes, not an egg," Albus fondly reminded his familiar.

_It's not hatched yet!_ A desperate Fawkes asserted. _You won't be absolutely sure what it is until it pecks its way out! _

Malcolm gave up any pretense at decorum and was now roaring with laughter.

"Don't you _**dare**_ laugh at Fawkes," hissed Leah. "He means well!"

"No… no… I'm not… laughing at him; I'm just… laughing at how… utterly wrong Newt Scamander was!" Malcolm turned serious. He then began quoting the learned Scamandar, "'Phoenixes are reserved and they rarely attach themselves to a mage. When they do make the rare bonding, they form a deep attachment with their mages and are deferential to them.' Did anyone tell Fawkes that he needed to read the job description before he became Albus' familiar? Our fierce Fawkes bullies our sweet Albus."

'Our sweet Albus' mouthed a disbelieving Leah, her eyebrows high.

_Open! Pressie! Open!_ Fawkes pleaded. _Please? The egg will like it!_

"Later," Leah decided. "Malcolm has agreed to help me in the kitchen. Elphias will make sure our sweet Albus doesn't run for the door."

The slightest mocking stress on the word 'our' and Fawkes quivered.

Albus shyly nodded his head in agreement and he reached for Leah's hands. "I can't believe you put so much effort into this for me. You should focus on yourself and the baby…not me. I don't deserve this."

"You _**do**_," protested the fierce Leah. Elphias piped in his wheezy agreement and Albus roughly brushed his tearing eyes.

"Some day I hope to find out whatever I did _**right**_ to deserve you and Elphias," Albus admitted. "Now, Leah, I trust that you and Malcom will hit it off. He's quite… dear… to me."

Albus blushed when he admitted that, then he took his courage by the bootstraps and he leaned over to Malcolm. He placed a light kiss on Malcolm's cheek and Albus blushed once more.

The courtesan marveled at the change in Albus' demeanor. It was amazing how much the reticent Albus had blossomed during their brief assignation. Albus had actually buzzed him in front of his friends.

"They all know my predilection, why should I continue to hide it as though it's something shameful," whispered Albus. "I'm not being too forward, am I?"

"No, you're not," assured Malcolm. "Though, I believe that your inquisitive Head Girl is secretly hoping that you'd snog me."

Albus quickly glanced at Minerva McGonagall. The Head Girl was broadly smiling and Albus gave her a look full of reproach. The cheeky monkey didn't look the slightest bit intimidated and in fact, she dimpled when she noticed his glower.

"Cease and desist glaring at her," stage-whispered Malcolm. "We can give the girl quite the raree show. I'm sure she'll run screaming out the door if she sees two old gay wands snogging. Unless she gets her jollies watching."

"She's one of my students," protested Albus. "Plus, she's not at all squeamish. I'd be dead from mortification and you would have collapsed long before she ran for the door."

"Think of it as an educational experience," retorted Malcolm. Least that was what Malcolm attempted to say before Albus silenced him with a kiss.

No tongue though, there was only so far that Albus was willing to further the education of the inquisitive Ms. Minerva McGonagall.

"Now, go entertain your friends. When I'm done helping Leah, you can introduce me to the few people I don't know," suggested Malcolm.

_I'd like to stay with Leah_, Fawkes inserted. _It's warmer in the kitchen. I'm cold!_

* * *

When Albus had hesitantly requested permission to bring someone to the party, Leah had happily agreed. The idea that Albus had actually found someone had been welcomed news. She and Elphias had truly feared for Albus' emotional health after his battle with Grindlewald. That horrid Teutonic nightmare of a hospital had been staffed by Harbingers of Death, Doom and Despair.

Even the thought of that nightmare brought tears to her eyes as she couldn't help remembering Albus' shattered form swaddled in assorted bandages. She and Elphias had arrived in the hospital thanks to a certain meddlesome Phoenix. Everyone had been celebrating his glorious victory over Gellert while Albus had been shuttled off to a small, private ward.

'_He was so angry over my supposed betrayal," _Albus had whispered to Leah when the two of them had been alone. _'Wanted to ensure that no one would ever enjoy my physical charms… but there's never been anyone except for…the two of them… and now there never will be… He guaranteed that.'_

Leah had reassured Albus that he'd find someone, and with his new reputation, he had. He had experienced a deluge of camp followers, Demimondaines and Cyprians. The women had thrown themselves at a horribly mortified Albus, all desiring the chance to shag him senseless. A clueless Albus had been humiliated by their attentions and his reticence had made his pursuers even more ardent. And then the pretty boys had arrived, terribly flustering the inexperienced Albus, who was only human after all, awfully human and very lonely.

He had requested advice from her, and instead of counseling, Leah had let him talk. Albus had haltingly confessed his need for companionship combined with his deep apprehension over his naïveté. Dumbledore feared being played the fool and he knew that his admirers were only interested in him because of his reputation. It would be best to isolate himself so he wouldn't repeat the horrific mistake of his younger years. The decision made, and so he had cut himself off not only from the tarts but from his concerned friends.

The party had seemed like a good idea, a way of gently reminding Albus that he did have friends, good, dedicated acquaintances that cared for him irregardless of his glorious reputation. Everyone had been delighted to attend and had made suggestions on who else might be interested in attending. In fact, Leah had to firmly warn Galatea Merrythought that her house was far too small for the crowds the witch had suggested.

Yet, why was Malcolm upsetting Leah so much? Besides the disturbing bit about St. Rhys showing up out of nowhere, with Albus never so much as mentioning that he was dating? There was an effortless familiarity between the two men… and that was what bothered her the most. Malcolm St. Rhys was too smooth and glib and excessively skilled at easing a wand-shy Albus.

And Albus was most assuredly smitten with the urbane Malcolm.

Malcolm reminded her of her first husband, Leah realized in alarm. Tom had wooed and charmed her until she didn't know up from down and then the violence had begun. Naively, she had believed that if she only tried a little harder to please him, the abuse and the beatings would stop.

Rationally, she knew that she shouldn't compare her traumatic experiences as a raw eighteen year old with the much older Albus. Yet, she had clung to Tom even though she had known better… because he had utterly charmed her.

"Where may I put Fawkes?" Malcolm questioned. He had Albus' satchel strap over his shoulder and he was carefully holding the bag in his hands. The devil dimpled when he smiled at Fawkes who had poked his head out of the bag. "Yes, I know you'll want to supervise everything… but I want to make sure you're out of harm's way. Plus, Leah should sit down for a few minutes. She's no doubt worn herself to a frazzle preparing everything."

"I have to finish a few things," protested Leah.

"Sit," Malcolm commanded. He pointed out a kitchen chair and motioned for her to sit. "Fawkes misses you as you never visit him."

* * *

Malcolm had taken off his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and was busy chopping fruit for the trifle, so Fawkes knew that he had to act fast. He began nuzzling Leah's hand in a plaintive plea for her to scratch him.

_Let's talk. He can't hear us…_ _I like him_, he reassured Leah. _He's very good to Albus. He's not at all like the Other One._

_How did they meet? _Leah questioned.

_Albus went to his apartment_, the guileless Fawkes admitted.

_You're telling me that Albus just went to his apartment and said, 'Will you be my date?'_ Leah asked.

_He actually hit him with a bouquet of roses first before inviting him out on a date,_ confessed the Phoenix. _Albus was horrified and nearly did a runner but Malcolm calmed him down. They chatted for a bit and then they went to the concert together. They had a wonderful time. They rubbed each other like they were Phoenixes… and… Albus had a very nice time as Malcolm is very good for Albus. I want him to stay with Albus at the school but Albus says that's impossible. _

_Well, yes, the Board of Governors would calve a whole herd of cows in the Great Hall if Albus stationed his lover in his rooms._

_No, it's because Albus can't afford Malcolm for more than this weekend. You care for Albus, I know… so… you must be nice to Malcolm so Albus is able to enjoy every second of his time with Malcolm. I don't know why you don't like Malcolm but you can't let Albus know! Malcolm is very expensive! He is worth every Galleon Albus paid for him as he's completely focused on making Albus happy._

_I wish I could buy Malcolm for Albus. Then Albus wouldn't be alone anymore and I wouldn't have to sing him to sleep. He didn't have any nightmares when he slept besides Malcolm! I think it was because Malcolm exhausted him when they mated. Malcolm was very thorough with Albus. Albus was delighted when he realized that mating could feel so good._

The Phoenix chick beseechingly stared up at Leah.

_Please, Leah, please be nice to Malcolm for this weekend. Albus hopes you'll like him… he paid a great deal for him… I already nearly ruined this for Albus because I tried too hard to help things along…then I burned early… please, Leah, please be nice to Malcolm…_

_And how much did Albus pay Malcolm to be his date, Fawkes?_

Fawkes having no understanding of the concept of shame, named the price.

"Albus paid you half a year's salary to be his date?" Leah spat. "For that amount I'd hope you'd paint my house and reshingle my roof. Albus is attempting to pass off a WHORE as his date? What special skills do you posses to rate such a costly sum, Mr. St. Rhys?"

_Oh no_, Fawkes whimpered. In his shame, he wished for nothing more than to cover his face with his wing but he had to rectify the situation he had caused. _No, no. No, it's not like that, Leah!_

"Fawkes! I wish I could squeeze your beak shut and then spellotape it closed! But I can't even do that because you telegraph your thoughts to _**everyone**_! I should have realized that you were being entirely too well behaved!" Malcolm wasn't so much furious as he was fearful of Leah embarrassing Albus.

_I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I didn't know Leah would react like this. I wanted her to be nice to you because of Albus! _

"I know you are sorry, Fawkes, but you must learn to keep your Phoenixy beak out of issues that do not concern you! Mrs. Doge, I am not a whore…" explained Malcolm.

_**Please, please, stop! **_Fawkes pleaded._**  
**_

"You take Galleons for sex, Mr. St. Rhys, I consider that _**whoring**_," retorted Leah. "Why did Albus feel the need to pass off a whore as his date?"

_It's my fault! I suggested it! BLAME ME! Albus didn't want to hire Malcolm but I bullied him into doing it! It's MY FAULT! Don't blame Malcolm!_

"Mrs. Doge, I am not a whore. I am a cortigiana onesta. I'm a Master-Level of my Guild and I do not peddle my body on the streets of Knockturn Alley in hopes of scoring Pixie Dust!"

Their verbal sparring begun, they would have continued their vocal disagreement but Fawkes whimpered. It was a heartbreaking sound and the two combatants turned their focus onto the quivering Phoenix. The chick looked ill as his eyes were dull and lifeless and his body was wracked with tremors.

_I'm … cold… I really don't feel well…_

"I'll go get Albus and then we can finish our conversation," Leah decided.

_Please… don't tell Albus… he'll be so angry!_

"He's shivering," Malcolm observed. "He truly looks ill. Fawkes, you're not shamming again, are you?"

_Nooo_, whimpered the Phoenix. _I wish I could go home… but Albus would want to leave. Please don't tell him. Can you put me someplace warm? In the stove? In the fireplace?  
_  
"He burned early and he hasn't been taking care of himself as he's been focusing on Albus. He's exhausted," decided Leah. "He's quite young for a Phoenix and sometimes the outside world is a bit much for him."

"Albus will want to be made aware," Malcolm said. "He'll know how to handle this."

_Nooooo_, pleaded Fawkes_. No, no, no! I ruined his weekend! He'll be so mad at me! _

"Heat, we need to warm him."

"Can I use the breadbasket?"

"Yes… it would make a good nest for Fawkes."

The two of them worked together and quickly prepared a cozy little nest for the stricken Phoenix complete with self-warming spells. For added benefit, they included Albus' muffler.

_I think after I nap, I'll feel better,_ a weary Fawkes decided. _I think I overdid it a little. It's so hard taking care of Albus. I'm not able … to care for him like he needs right now…There's so much I just don't understand. Can you two please keep an eye on him?_

Both assured the drained Phoenix that they'd keep an eye on Dumbledore. The familiar sighed in heartfelt relief and he snuggled into the muffler.

_I'm really sorry… I just wanted Albus to be happy. He's been so depressed since what happened that I wanted to help him be happy. That's what familiars are supposed to do!  
_

"Poor Fawkes, he tries so hard but he just doesn't understand that witches and wizards are not flightless birds," Malcolm announced. "I don't think he would have mentioned what I do for a living if he'd had any concept that you'd disapprove."

Leah nodded her head once and she gently stroked the sleeping Fawkes' crest with a delicate finger.

"Fawkes is exhausted after he Burns, so we should just let him rest. However, I just don't understand, Malcolm. Why did Albus hire a… cortigiana onesta? This was supposed to be a nice, friendly gathering for him," Leah asked. "Why did he decide to hire a date?"

"I think Albus is still processing everything that happened recently. He's melancholy and I believed that he worried about upsetting you and Elphias. You both deeply care about him and he treasures your friendships. Albus believed that if he showed up to the party with someone on his arm, you and Elphias would stop worrying. He wants you to focus on the baby, Leah," explained Malcolm. "He's also quite starved for physical affection but fearful of appearing the fool."

"You said you were a therapist," protested Leah. "Is hiring you truly helpful?"

"I am a Muggle licensed therapist," explained the courtesan. "I'm also part owner at Madame Esme's Gentlemen's Club, besides being the senior cortigiana onesta. Considering I'm a little long in the tooth, I'm semi-retired as a courtesan. I usually take only a few clients now and then, but Esme thought I would be good for Albus. He's really quite innocent when it comes to such matters, and the experiences he has endured weren't particularly pleasant."

"His ex was cruel," admitted Leah.

"His reputation for cruelty was well deserved," said Malcolm. His voice was quite soft when he spoke and his smile sad.

Leah gasped in surprise, "You know?"

"Fawkes let it slip after I guessed, plus those wounds… they were maliciously cast, Leah. Don't worry, everything that happens is completely confidential. Normally," Malcolm then dimpled when he smiled. "But I bent the rules just for you, as you're a loving, concerned friend."

"Malcolm, Albus is quite… smitten… with you," explained a worried Leah. "That's what worried me the most."

"Really? That's quite… flattering…. The very idea that Albus Dumbledore is… _**smitten**_… with _**me**_…," admitted the courtesan. "But do not fear; I know that he really isn't smitten. I'm just a friendly lay. My body is soft and I'm empathetic. I don't mock his inexperience yet I refuse to indulge his fears. We examine them together and work through them. Hopefully this weekend has given him more self-confidence. He's not so much besotted, Leah, but just giddy. He's discovered that he's not the only man who likes other men, and Albus realizes that he has a great many friends. Most importantly, in this enlightened age, his friends don't care a Doxy Dropping about his sexuality."

'How did he find you?" asked Leah.

"Honestly, it was just luck. All the various establishments were attempting to get Albus as a client. I'm not sure how much you know about my line of work," Malcolm said.

"I've read 'Charlotte the Courtesan'," admitted a blushing Leah. The tawdry tome had been a Daily Prophet Best Seller for over a year and quite explicit about the supposed dealings of a high level courtesan.

"Oh no! Not _**that**_ dross! Quite risqué but no truth at all to it. There's a Courtesan Guild and you have to be a Guild member to be employed. It's rather rigorous and highly structured. There are roughly a dozen Courtesan Houses and it's quite political. Ranking is based on politics, clients, other assorted minutia. To have Albus as a client would be quite the Phoenix feather in a House's cap. So, naturally, the higher ranked houses sent invitations and he didn't respond."

Malcolm smiled and then continued, "They surmised that perhaps he wasn't interested in women, so other Houses offering specialized services became involved. Still no response, and then Esme sent him a rather tempting invite. She didn't offer sex; she inquired only if he was lonely and tired of being the 'Hero of the Realm'? Did he crave the tactile sensation of being touched? Esme is quite a smart witch; she understands that most people who hire courtesans do not crave sex. No, it's the sense of isolation, the lack of connection with someone. She interviewed him…"

"Interviewed?" Leah disbelievingly inserted.

"Interviewed," repeated Malcolm. "And Esme believed that I might be a good choice. Like I've said before, Albus views me as rather soft and non-threatening. Completely benign. Somewhat squishy and yet comforting. I really must make a concerted effort at losing that extra stone."

He patted his belly and smiled.

"I do so enjoy the good life, Leah, and it loves me right back."

"That's not how he views you," retorted Leah. "He blushes when he looks at you."

The courtesan shook his head, disbelieving that Albus viewed their association as something more than a business arrangement. Meanwhile, Leah marveled at truly obtuse Malcolm was.

"Shall we agree to disagree on _**that**_?" Malcolm quipped.

"I don't even know what we've agreed upon."

"That you won't mention what I do for a living to your husband or any of the other guests. It would horribly embarrass Albus," suggested Malcolm. "That we agree that we haven't gotten off on the right foot but truly, we do want the best for Albus? And we must inform Albus that Fawkes is feeling a bit under the weather. Most importantly, we agree that it's long past time for me to return you to the party."

He held out his hand and Leah placed her hand on his. They shook and smiled at one another.

"Agreed," Leah consented.

* * *

Truly, it was the most remarkable party, Albus had to confess. The room was full of those closest to him, and normally, the crowd would be something that would fill him with dread. Not so now, as he practiced what Malcolm had told him about 'working a room'. Not he should feel uncomfortable as these were his friends, but it was easier now.

"How long have you two been dating?" He questioned Galatea. Her resulting stammer was quite amusing as for once she was on the receiving end. "You're a brave man, Master Flitwick."

Then Horace Slughorn had gotten involved in the conversation as he hadn't realized that his two fellow instructors were dating, scandalously breaking at least three dozen of Armando Dippet's puritan rules in the process. The conversation had gotten rowdier until a blushing Flitwick admitted that perhaps he had liked it better when Albus had been too anxious to converse with him.

He continued to mingle until Leah and Malcolm located him and advised him that Fawkes was ill. Naturally, that took precedence over chinwagging and he raced to the kitchen. His familiar was deeply asleep in a basket and didn't so much as stir when Albus greeted him.

"Poor little fellow, he's Burned and crashed," whispered Albus. "He was so focused on me this weekend that he didn't take any time for himself. Fawkes is a silly little Phoenix whose main fault is that he is overly protective of his mage."

"He loves you very much," offered Malcolm. "Hopefully, he'll develop some diplomacy and tact as he gets older."

"Fawkes was a newly hatched chick when I rescued him, so he's not been given a proper Phoenixy upbringing," admitted Albus. "Phoenix chicks in nature are found in coveys being cared for by older family members, therefore his faults are mine. Silly little feather brain doesn't know any better because he uses me as his guide to social behavior."

"Problem with Sparky?" rumbled a familiar voice.

Albus turned to face his brother. "He's just tired."

"Better let me check Sparky," the irascible Aberforth announced. "You've got no talent for husbandry. Sparky's looking rather sparkfree at the moment, so good thing I'm here."

He rolled up his not very clean sleeves and he removed a small flask from his waistcoat. It was followed by a small vial and a medicine dropper.

"Clean that, won't you?" Aberforth ordered his brother. "Find a small bowl also if you're in the mood to be useful. Or find it for me even if you're not feeling particularly helpful as it's your Sparky."

"I'll be leaving," Leah suggested. She grabbed Malcolm by his arm and nodded her head toward the door. "Yes, I could use your assistance, Malcolm."

"Come on, Sparky, don't you worry. Uncle Abe is here to take care of you," Aberforth crooned as he took the Phoenix out of the basket. "Lucky I'm here, as Papa Albus is useless when it comes to illness."

_Should we leave them together_? Malcolm mouthed to Leah, and Leah nodded her head.

_It'lll be alright_, she assured him.

Aberforth Dumbledore was a rather disreputable looking chap, but his hands were gentle as he examined Fawkes. He made a trilling noise and then a few tongue clicks and Fawkes opened one eye.

_Abe? You came! Leah said you would! _

"Don't worry, Sparky, I'm here. Pupils are slow," Aberforth grumbled. "Put a good healthy mouthful of the flask into the bowl, Albus, and then add a splash from the vial. Stir it a bit and then cool it down. Then we'll give it to Sparky by the dropper until his colour improves."

Albus opened the flask and immediately recognized the smell.

"Gin? You're giving him GIN?"

"Yes, gin! It's a good vintage as I distilled it myself!" Aberforth proudly informed his brother. "Sparky needs a tonic, a Phoenixy Pepper Up Potion! Now, add a splash, not a dash of the vial!"

Albus, being a Potions Master and familiar with the more traditional measuring units, was a bit confused between a splash and a dash, but he splashed and hoped for the best.

"Stir!" commanded Dr. Aberforth, and therefore, Albus stirred.

* * *

Fawkes was snuggled beneath Albus' armpit and Albus was diligently administering Aberforth's Phoenixy Pepper Up Potion, a ungodly mixture of gin and goat's milk. The ailing familiar seemed to be improving as his color returned.

"Bloke's not your usual type," offered Aberforth by way of conversation.

"Who?" a distracted Albus questioned as he nursed Fawkes.

"Malcolm," Aberforth tartly reminded him. "Your date? He seems like a decent chap. Hasn't once jumped on the table and sprouted rubbish about overthrowing the magical government to create a new world order. But the night's still early; he might decide to entertain us later."

"No, he's not at all like that," answered Albus. "I've found that my tastes have improved as I've gotten older."

The Dumbledore brothers continued in silence to minister to the sick familiar until Aberforth spoke.

"Didn't want to come to this shindig. Leah twisted my arm and threatened to spawn her baby in the middle of the Hog's Head then and there if I didn't agree."

"Thank you for coming," Albus said.

"Wasn't for you, you know. I didn't want to have to clean up the afterbirth," mumbled an embarrassed Aberforth. "Plus, it wouldn't be very sanitary, to have her dropping her litter on the floor. Also the baby would be too early. They need to cook for so long before they're done. Too early and it's a right proper mess."

Aberforth, lifelong bachelor, sagely nodded his head.

"Whatever your reasons for attending, I am delighted you are here. Fawkes is also grateful for your attendance," his brother informed him.

Fawkes chirped a soft agreement and Albus grinned.

"He's becoming chatty again," Albus said. "Good sign."

Aberforth nodded his head. Then the silence began anew between the two brothers until the younger Dumbledore brother decided to speak.

"She told me that I was being an utter arse, that you needed me and that I needed to stop reliving what had happened. That we were the only Dumbledores left and would our parents be happy with how we won't even acknowledge each other?"

"Our parents wouldn't blame you," Albus reminded him. "This schism… it is of my making."

"That's what I told her! I knew you'd agree as you were always the smart one," Aberforth then merrily chortled. "Then she asked me if Ariana would be happy with us? She wouldn't be… you know…"

Albus nodded his head once in agreement, making no effort to hide the tears in his eyes. "No… she would be most displeased."

"When we fought, she'd always try to settle it. Even after she was damaged by those boys, Albus… she'd still try….in her own way… to make peace between us. She loved both of us, though we failed her."

Again, Albus nodded his head, having no faith in his ability to talk without breaking into sobs.

"She'd be furious with us, so what I'm saying is, you are my brother. Even if you are a bit inflated on your idea of your self-worth."

The two men roughly embraced then, being careful not to squash Fawkes.

"I've missed you," Albus admitted.

"Need someone to keep your ego deflated."

"And you need someone to tell you to bathe. You smell like goat," retorted Albus.

"Well, I'm still not voting for you for Minister of Magic."

"You have no fear of that coming true. I enjoy teaching," Albus firmly stated. "I have found my place in life and it's at Hogwarts."

* * *

A tired Albus went back to Malcolm's apartment. A still slumbering Fawkes was carefully put away for the evening in a cat-free zone and then the two men sat down on the couch.

"That party wasn't as painful as you feared," Malcolm said after they had a bit of wine.

"No, it was quite nice," Albus admitted. He was still struggling to process the entire evening. He was surprised by how many friends had been there, and his reconciliation with Aberforth? Truly a remarkable evening even with it being such an eventful weekend. "Leah adored the bear, so thank you for suggesting it."

"Your godson will love the bear."

"What's next?" questioned Albus.

"Whatever you wish," assured Malcolm. The courtesan wore a crooked smile and his blue eyes were quite amused. "Though I have such lovely ideas that I pray that you'll find very enjoyable."

"May I borrow an Owl?" was Albus' surprising response. Malcolm looked disconcerted that Albus wasn't leaping at the chance to go back to bed for more frolicking.

"Certainly, Aspasia will be willing to take your message anywhere you wish in Great Britain. I'll arrange for another Owl if you wish to take it further, Albus. Spaz is getting older and I prefer to keep her close."

"No… just to Hogwarts. I'm canceling classes for tomorrow and letting Dippet know. But you named your owl after a hetaera?"

"Occupational hazard," retorted Malcolm.

Albus quickly scrawled a note advising Dippet that he was taking an unplanned holiday for Monday and what to assign his students. For good measure, he decided to send a note to Galatea saying, "See you on Tuesday for tea, and _**no**_, I won't tell you a bloody thing no matter how tearfully you beg."

That letter caused him to laugh as he knew that Galatea would be beside herself in frustration!

"There won't be a problem, will there?" Malcolm questioned. The courtesan was standing behind Albus.

"No, we're allowed two 'Lay-in Days' a year, and I haven't used a single one since I started there," explained Albus. "In fact, I don't even need his approval, but I thought it best just to inform him. Dippet is touchy."

"No, I'm touchy, he's a crank," Malcolm whispered in Albus' ear. "Let me show you the wonderful difference."

He put his hands on Albus' shoulders and began to gently massage them. Dumbledore relaxed into the massage, savoring the chance to be touched.

"Malcolm, I was wondering…. Will you top tonight?" Dumbledore attempted to be suave and debonair, but sad to admit, his voice was a tad bit high-pitched.

"I beg your pardon?" Malcolm asked. The massage stopped and Albus murmured his disapproval.

"I believe that's the vernacular. Will you top me tonight?" Albus repeated. This time, his voice did not shake.

"Albus, love… I thought you didn't want to do that…You don't have to do it… Many men don't find it particularly enjoyable…You don't have to bottom to be a wand-carrying member of the Gay Wizard Alliance."

"I believe that I have been needlessly limiting myself… out of fear of repeating past mistakes," explained Albus. "I was wrong about many things we tried this weekend, perhaps… I am mistaken about this."

Malcolm kissed and then embraced him.

"Let's do this, tonight, you top… then tomorrow morning, I'll have my wicked, wicked way with you."

"What if I do something wrong, Malcolm? What if I hurt you?" protested a sincere yet frightened Albus. "Wouldn't it be better if you were on top?"

"I'll guide you through everything and make suggestions if it's necessary. I doubt I will as you're a natural, love. You won't hurt me. I have more faith in you than you do," Malcolm assured him. The courtesan then softly laughed and dimpled. "You do realize that since Fawkes is soundly asleep, we could bathe together and not scandalize him. It would be helpful in preparing for your next adventure."

A shy smile from Albus was his answer to that proposition.

Malcolm held out his hand and Albus quickly grasped it.

"Shall we?" questioned Albus.

* * *

"Amazing," Albus whispered when rationality at last returned and he was able to think coherently. "That was… astonishing…"

"It's three in the blessed morning, which means it's cuddle time, not talk time," Malcolm murmured. "I'm an old, decrepit wizard who has just been delightfully ridden all night long. Need to sleep, love. Though it's quite the ego stroke to know that you did enjoy riding this plump old pony."

"Stallion," protested Albus. He snaked his hand beneath the covers and gave Malcolm a very gentle though possessive squeeze. "Most assuredly, you are an Irish Draught stallion not a Welsh Cob."

"Getting bold, aren't we? When did my shy Albus get so dreadfully daring?" A proud Malcolm quipped. "Alas, the spirit is willing while the body is begging for rest."

St. Rhys yawned deeply and snuggled close to Albus.

"Good night, love," whispered Albus. He leaned over and kissed his lover on the cheek. "It's been an incredible weekend for me."

A sleepy smile was his response.

* * *

Albus couldn't fall asleep and he decided to check on Fawkes. The familiar was no doubt still sleeping off Aberforth's Phoenixy Pepper Up Potion. Malcolm's Little Owl, Aspasia, buzzed him when he got out of bed.

"Shh," he whispered. "Don't wake him."

He took the letter from Aspasia and decided he'd read it after he examined Fawkes. The Phoenix sleepily greeted him and seemed in fine mettle. That done, he thought, "Lumos" and began to read Dippet's letter. His hands began to shake and the parchment fell from his limp hand when he was finished reading it.

_Albus - _

_I have been made aware of your brazenly contumacious behavior of this weekend. I had my doubts about you for a long time. Your relationship with that all too impressionable Rubeus Hagrid has always filled me with dread, as I saw the potential for you seducing him. Isn't that the way of your kind? To grab them young and twist them? Delude them into believing that your amoral behavior is natural?_

_I warned you when I became Headmaster that I would not condone any of your soddomite behavior. You assured me that I need not worry. You've shattered that vow by your deliberate actions of this weekend. No doubt you're chuffed that your Coming Out was featured so heavily in The Daily Prophet. Your kind disgusts me and I have terminated your employment at Hogwarts, pending confirmation of my decision by the Board of Governors._

_As required, the Board of Governors will be meeting to investigate this matter tomorrow at ten in the morning. Do not be mistaken, you will find that your fellow deviants will not be able to assist you._

_The charges for immediate termination are as follows:_

_Deviant, amoral behavior unsuited to your current position of Hogwarts Instructor, Hogwarts Assistant Head Master._

_Inappropriate relations with an underage boy, Rubeus Hagrid._

_Inappropriate relations with a female student, Minerva McGonagall. _

_Armando Dippet._

"Fawkes, I have to go," whispered a tearful Albus.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N # 1 – Well not 2 of 2. Not so fluffy any more. My noble attempt at writing a short, fluffy piece was sabotaged by a certain character. (Glares at Albus). But the end is in sight! Penultimate chapter.

A/N # 2 - AD/ED, AD/GG and AD/MOC

* * *

Albus softly inhaled and attempted to settle his racing heartbeat. Fawkes detected his unease and woke. His familiar opened his beak to sound his concern, but Albus put gentle pressure on Fawkes' beak to keep it closed.

_Don't wake, Malcolm_, he silently pleaded.

Fawkes the chick nodded his head in agreement.

_I need to return to Hogwarts immediately. I can't wake him,_ explained Albus.

_You can't just leave!_ Protested Fawkes. _You'll hurt Malcolm's feelings!_

_This was a business arrangement, _Albus reminded his familiar. _He got paid and quite well for entertaining me. I need to get back to Hogwarts. Come along, Fawkes._

He whispered a quick spell so Malcolm would slumber until the end of his shift. That way, hopefully, Malcolm might believe that Albus had left when his time ran out, rather than sneaking away in the middle of the night. Fawkes was carefully placed in Albus' satchel and they returned back to Hogwarts.

_Whatever is the matter_, Fawkes questioned after Albus carefully placed him in his nest. _Something is disturbing you. Tell me, you'll feel much better after you share it with me._

_Some matter has come to my attention_, Albus explained. _It will be resolved later today but I just needed to prepare for it. _

_Why aren't you telling me what's going on? I'm your familiar! Just take a deep breath and sit down. Tell me everything that's happening and you'll feel much better after sharing it._

_No, Fawkes, I can't share it with you. You're rather young, Fawkes, and this weekend has proven that you're sometimes overly enthusiastic about putting your pointed beak into matters that do not concern you. This issue does __**not**__ involve you, it is __**not**__ necessary to for you to get involved. In fact, it would be better for me if you didn't concern yourself with this. _

Dumbledore didn't mean to be curt with Fawkes, but his familiar whimpered once and began to anxiously tremble.

_But! But! I'm your familiar! You're my mage. We're __**supposed**__ to share everything!_

_Fawkes? Please! It's not necessary for you to be spellotaped to my…_

He didn't complete his thought, but Fawkes gave him a long, considering look. Whatever the Phoenix saw in Albus caused the familiar to hide his face under his wing. His trembling increased to full body shaking.

_Fawksy?_ Albus used his special name for his familiar, but Fawkes refused to answer him. _Fawksy? I didn't mean it that way. You just need to relax and stop being so proactive with regards to me._

_You did! You did mean it! I felt your emotion! _A strickenFawkes informed his mage. _I'm such a terrible familiar! You deserve better! I'll dissolve our bond right now so you can find someone suitable. _

Fawkes was in a right proper state. The mage had never seen Fawkes so emotionally undone except for the first few days after Albus had rescued the chick. The orphan Phoenix Chick had been overwhelmed by the lost of his feathery collective and all that was familiar with him. Those first few nights together, Albus had slept in an armchair with an inconsolable Fawkes nestled close to his breast. Perhaps, the Phoenix had bonded too deeply with Albus, seeking in him the flock he had lost due to the rampaging dragon. And Albus, a rather solitary soul, had been in a particularly rough patch in his emotional life as he had been debating his role in Gellert's rise to power.

The Phoenix had picked up on Dumbledore's insecurity and had anointed himself as Albus' brother. It was genetic; a Phoenix covey was a very social unit as it cared for all their members, irregardless of lineage. The Phoenix had possessively cosseted and groomed Albus and a rather bemused Albus had let him. Considering how strained his relationship was with Aberforth, Albus had foolishly promoted a brotherly relationship with Fawkes. It had been pleasant…to have a slightly cheeky, little brother with whom he got along... someone who wanted to do everything and anything as long as it was with Albus, but he now had an undersized, big brother with feathers who simply didn't comprehend humankind because _**Albus**_ didn't understand humanity.

Yet Fawkes struggled to be the best familiar he could be to Albus. Hadn't he stayed with Albus when he confronted Gellert? Hadn't he saved Albus' life? Hadn't he brought Elphias, Leah and Galatea to the hospital when he was recovering? Hadn't he sung an on edge Albus to sleep many a night?

_I should have given you to Leah. She would have been so much better for you!_

He had created this situation so he needed to take full responsibility.

Foolishly, he reached to stroke the devastated Fawkes but he was rewarded with a vicious peck and a scratched hand for his trouble.

_Not my mageling, _the distraught Phoenix hissed. _Not my covey._ _My flock is dead and I have no one. I am alone._

_Fawkes_, a desperate Albus protested. Phoenixes were social birds and a solitary Phoenix was prone to flambéing itself in a stunning suicide. _Please, not now. I can't deal with this right now. Let me get this matter resolved and then we can spend a great deal of time together. You'll like that, as you say you miss me during my classes. _

Albus didn't feel the Phoenix's mental presence. Where once Fawkes' high spirited and irrelevant mental voice had been, there was nothing but a dead silence. He attempted to talk to the Phoenix, but all he got was a glimpse of Fawkes' tail.

_Talk to the tail_ was what Albus heard loud and clear.

_I have to speak with Galatea,_ a rather verklempt Albus informed the mute Phoenix. _When I get everything resolved with regards to the other matter, you and I will settle this. But I bought you a new busy box. I was waiting to give it to you, but let me hang it here._

_It's got perches and hanging spots, play rings and everything you enjoy! Fawksy, there's even a mirror! You can admire your pretty self in it!_

The Phoenix was not impressed in the slightest with Albus' peace offering. Instead, he burrowed deeper into his silken nest and nuzzled the soft silk. The Phoenix wasn't making any noise, he was just quiet and still, which was _**NOT**_ a good sign for the irrepressible Fawkes.

"I'll be back after my meeting. We'll get everything as right as rain," Albus informed the trembling Phoenix. "_**Don't**_ do anything drastic while I'm gone. You are _**NOT**_ alone as you're _**my**_ familiar and I'm not letting you go. Don't you even _**think**_ of immolating yourself. I would be truly devastated if anything happened to you, Fawkes."

Fawkes couldn't self-immolate as he had just Burned. But he might try Translocating out in the Quidditch field where he'd fall to his death due to his immature wings. Albus cast a quick spell so Fawkes couldn't hurt himself.

Fleeing the scene of the crime, Dumbledore cursed himself for his irritablity. Fawkes was an adolescent Phoenix and Albus dealt with teenagers every day. He needed patience, not short temperedness with Fawkes, especially as the Phoenix was notoriously emotional during a growth spurt. There was a drum pounding in his head and Albus knew that he had a headache of massive proportions looming on the horizon.

He reached Galatea Merrythought's quarters and he quickly murmured a soft spell. It was just to inform him if Galatea was there or if she was 'entertaining' the Charms Master. There were no heartbeats in her quarters, so he sent the spell upwards to the Ravenclaw's suite. The answering silence informed him that neither of them was there.

Where might they be? In an act of desperation, he sent the spell to the Room of Requirement. Perhaps, they were having their tryst there.

Nothing.

Bloody hell, had they gotten a room in Hogsmeade?

The drumming in his head increased and Albus forecasted that he'd be flat on his back from the pain by the time Dippet's inquisition started. He was in need of the Matron's care, something just to cut the pain to a manageable level so he could think of a defence.

He was on the way to the infirmary when he saw someone in the halls. Tom Riddle's eyes were expressionless when he saw Albus Dumbledore.

"Is there a problem, Professor?" Riddle asked. His tone was cool and, unconcerned but Albus couldn't help but feel that an inwardly gleeful Tom Riddle knew far too much about Albus' employment status.

_He'd love to get rid of me as he views me as a personal threat. A threat to what? I do not know but a sensitive Fawkes intensely dislikes Riddle. _

"You're out in the halls awfully early, Mr. Riddle," Albus answered.

"Your hand, it's bleeding," the student offered.

His hand was throbbing and yes, it was sluggishly bleeding from Fawkes' scratch.

"Just a scrape," was the professor's reply. He whispered a simple spell and it healed itself.

The casting was nothing, yet Riddle seemed to view it otherwise. There was a flash of unease in his dark eyes, as though he had underestimated Albus Dumbledore and had decided not to do so again.

"Good morning, Mr. Riddle," Albus announced. It was a dismissal, and Riddle knew it.

* * *

"You have a headache," the matron decisively announced when a staggering Albus finally made it to the Infirmary. "Go the private ward on the left, I'll be there shortly."

"Have a meeting… at ten…" Albus protested. "Need to be able to think…"

The mediwitch arrived with a small vial. "Drink."

"I have a meeting…" Albus repeated.

"At ten. I heard you the first time. _**Drink**_," she firmly repeated. "You must be in agony if you're here. Fawkes wasn't able to sing it away? Where is he? I'll find something for him to perch on."

"He burned…early… tired.. couldn't ask him…he's sleeping it off," muttered Albus. "In room."

His headache was crescendoing to a new level of agony. Quickly, he quaffed the potion and Matron Maloney handed him a sleeping mask.

"Put it on," she tersely ordered. "You need to block the light."

"I can't sleep… have a meeting…" he protested. Exhaustion was crashing down on him and he could barely spit out the words.

"At ten," the Matron repeated as she closed the drapes in the ward, plunging them into complete darkness. "I'll wake you at half past nine if you're not up by them."

_I have… to prepare… a defence_… was the last thoughts Albus had before he woke. It was slightly before ten o'clock.

"I'm sorry I didn't wake you earlier. I had an emergency. Had to remove a broom splinter from someone's arse," the matron informed him. "Actually, I had to remove an entire tree's worth of splinters from someone's bottom. Someone's first year flying class went to hell. That's why I had to move you to a different ward as I was inundated with wounded. I'd thought you'd sleep sounder here."

He heard the witch's snarky denunciation on the Flying Instructor's lack of broom care but he didn't listen to it. His mind was focused on the inescapable fact that he was wearing the _**same**_ clothes he wore on Saturday. He had freshened and Transfigured them on Sunday but he still knew that he was wearing them for the third day.

"Do you have a mirror? I need to straighten up," Dumbledore questioned.

She pointed him in the right direction and he quickly Freshened up and Transfigured his clothes into something … presentable. Dark, solemn colors and he turned his waistcoast into a dark, muted checked pattern.

"I don't look like a poof," he said to his reflection. "I look like a respectable professional. Someone who can be trusted to teach impressionable young minds. My appearance is of someone who would never dream of sexing a student."

"No, you don't look respectable, you look like you're being laid out," his reflection retorted.

"I should have gotten a haircut," Albus murmured.

"Too late for that, it's almost ten!" His doppelganger gleefully informed him.

"Bugger!" Albus growled. It was such an immature reaction. But still, it summed up everything perfectly. "Bugger! Bugger! BUGGER!"

* * *

He barely made it to the Office of the Governors by the required time. The Governors were sitting at their seats, Armando Dippet was in his position as Headmaster and there was a curly, dark haired man was in the midst of an energetic discussion with several Governors.

"I'm his representative. That's why I'm here," the stranger said. "Since I was not given time to converse with my client on this situation, I beg the Governors' indulgence for fifteen minutes. Setting up a meeting at five in the morning for an instructor's dismissal? Truly, the Headmaster of Hogwarts is a sleepless job."

"Agreed," Morgan Moody announced. Bill Weasley chimed in an agreement.

The other Governors were about to respond in the negative when Morgan Moody inserted, "We have to do this right. The Quibbler picks up on the fact that the Board wouldn't give the defeater of Gellert an adequate time for defence and we'll never hear the end of it from them. Then the Prophet might get involved. Fifteen minutes is a reasonable request."

The Board agreed and the curly haired man took Albus by his elbow to a small room.

"Hello, I'm Finn. I'll be representing you today," the curly haired man announced. He was a quite attractive man with an easy, self assured grin. Finn was also quite a snappy dresser, Albus noticed. While he had no idea on Finn's skills as a representative, Albus felt a little better than Finn had a sense of style.

"Finn?" Albus repeated.

"Finn as in Finnie," he explained even as his smile broadened. For some reason, the grinning man's features looked familiar to Albus.

"I didn't hire you," protested Albus.

"A friend of yours did. That's all I'm allowed to say. I don't really need to talk to you; your defence has already been devised. I'm just stalling for time to get your witnesses here. Your headache better?" questioned his defence representative. "I understand that it was quite severe and that you were in the infirmary for the last twelve hours sleeping off that dose."

"How did you know about my headache? Twelve hours? I was only in there for four or so," questioned Albus.

"Time is mutable, especially with your rather dangerous friends," dismissively explained Finn. "But you're feeling clearheaded? Rested? Head isn't achy? Don't wish you to have brain storm."

Actually Albus was feeling quite chipper, as though he had slept the full twelve hours that one of the Matron's headache potions normally required.

"Yes," a rather perplexed Albus agreed.

"Your defence will be slightly unorthodox, but then again, you've got a reputation for being a bit barmy, haven't you?" Finn quipped. He then looked up and down at Albus before he shook his head. "Why are you dressed like a funeral director? This farce will vindicate you, not bury you."

"I thought I should look presentable," explained Albus. "That I recognize the severity of the charges."

"Dippet is being a raving nutter," Finn said. "No matter what you do, he'll read something into it. You should have dressed like you normally do. At least you would have been comfortable. Tell me, Albus, did you nail that Minerva wench? How many times? Was she lively?"

Albus' wand was in his hand and pressed into Finn's jugular before Albus' mouth got up to speed.

"That is… _**disgusting**_… I am _**gay**_… not a _**paedo**_," growled Albus. "I have never, **ever** touched Miss McGonagall in such a way. I will not let you besmirch her reputation. I am giving her additional classes as she's such an exceptional student."

Finn pushed the wand away from his neck and swallowed once.

"Like the honest intensity, but try not to pull your wand on me when I ask you that question. You did defeat that Teutonic madman recently and you waving your wand around like that will get people nervous. Afraid that you might accidentally wipe out a small town," quipped Finn.

"Who hired you," Albus demanded. "_**Tell me**_."

"I'm not allowed to tell you though I'm permitted to inform you that several of your friends hired me. Do try to Legilimens me, Albus. You won't get far as it's all Blocked. I suggested that they do it, in fact. The other side is playing games, Albus. You needed someone who can play with the big boys and not let them know that they're being made into quite the fools. That's why I've been Compelled not to even think about who hired me. They must not realize that they're being sized for motley even as we speak."

Finn then straightened out Albus' suit and brushed off some imaginary dirt from his shoulders.

"Just to let you know, if the other side does mentions your little date with al-Hamal, his occupation will not be made known. He's related to the majority of the Governors, and our little black sheep enraged? Could prove to be quite embarrassing for many of them."

"Malcolm? al-Hamal?" Albus questioned. "That's Arabic for sheep. That's also Arabic for Alpha Arietis of the constellation Aries."

Oh _**no**_, Albus was beginning to have an idea who Malcolm really was. But he seemed so… reasonable… normal… personable… so un-Black-like.

"What some people name their children," Finn disapprovingly stated. "If you had a name like al-Hamal, wouldn't you prefer something sane like Malcolm?"

There was a knock on the door, saving Albus from answering that question, and Morgan Moody, among with two other Governors, entered the room. He looked at both men, gave Albus a serendipitous wink and then informed Finn that his time was done.

"Governor Moody? Have my witnesses arrived yet?" Finn jovially questioned.

"Yes, we're having difficulties sitting them all," Moody admitted. "We've also had an unexpected guest arrive to witness the proceedings."

"May I ask who?" Finn innocently asked. He wore a smile as though he knew who the guests were.

"Theresa Vance," Abraxas Malfoy growled.

"The Minister of Magic? Truly a good thing you allowed time for our defence," the curly haired man said. "Ms. Vance is a stickler for protocol and the legal system. Very well, let us go, Albus."

"Theresa Vance?" Albus repeated. "The Minister of Magic?"

"I invited her, but I wasn't sure that she'd show. Rather busy these days, what with the rebuilding."

* * *

Albus wasn't sure what to expect when he entered the Governors Room, but he wasn't expected to see Filius and Galatea front row and center, along with Horace and Herbert Beery and the rest of the teaching staff of Hogwarts. The one eyed Silvanus Kettleburn was dwarfed by Rubeus Hagrid who was sobbing uncontrollably. The Magical Creatures Professor was unsuccessful in comforting Rubeus. There was Leah and Elphias Doge sitting next to Matron Maloney who had escaped from the Infirmary. Aberforth had even arrived and Albus had to quickly blink and rub his eyes to confirm that Abeforth had a small black sheep with him. The lamb was being given a bottle and seemed the only one not interested in the circus unfolding around him. Minerva McGongall and her parents were there and they were stationed next to the various Weasleys and Moodys.

The door to the Governors' Room open and in walked the Minister of Magic, Theresa Vance and she was being escorted by Malcolm St. Rhys. The courtesan was being quite the tease and Theresa Vance was seemingly not impressed with his behavior.

Albus' heart did a flippity flop and landed in his toes as Malcolm was not only upright and conscious, he was deliberately ignoring Albus.

"Malcolm, you didn't tell me _**Phineas**_ would be here," Theresa loudly protested.

"I didn't know, Auntie Tessie," the courtesan insisted.

Neither Albus nor the Minister of Magic believed his innocent routine.

"Malcolm, _**Aunt Theresa**_. I do not like it when you call Aunt Tessie. Makes me sound like a House Elf," the Minister crisply informed Malcolm. "I raised you and Phineas both so I think you should honor my request."

"Phineas?" Albus asked the curly haired man. "I thought you said Finn was short for Finnie."

"It is," Phineas answered. "It's also short for Phineas. What some people name their children."

He dramatically shuddered.

"Phineas Nigellus Black, don't I get a kiss?" The Minister demanded. "I'm so sorry, Armando. I know you want this settled before lunch, but I rarely get my two hooligans together."

"Must kiss Aunt Tessie. Be back," Finn whispered to Albus. "You better sit down. Wait until you see the next group. They should be arriving shortly. This discipline hearing will go down in the annals of Hogwarts as a complete Governors circle jerk by the time I'm done with them."

"Is that supposed to reassure me?" Albus questioned to Phineas' back.

Theresa Vance was warmly greeted by Phineas Black, prodigal son of the late Phineas Black, Headmaster of Hogwarts.

"I thought I saw your father in that portrait when I came in," Theresa announced to _her_ boys. "I don't see him now. I believe our Phineas is in hiding."

Malcolm and his half-brother looked at each other with identical looks of unsurprise.

"I feel like a bastard at a family reunion, especially with Dad running scared," Malcolm whispered loudly. "Speaking of which, Finn, did you get your invitation to Ursula's latest reunion?"

"Didn't," Finn sadly assured Malcolm. "No Christmas card either. I sent her one, so I expect that she Incendio'd it."

Another crowd entered the room. There was Esmeralda Windsor in the lead, the infamous Madame Esme, harlot and Malcolm's employer, leading several other people. Albus had to calm himself when he realized she had brought several of the local stable managers with her.

"I don't see my seat," she announced.

Bill Weasley and Morgan Moody both stood up and politely offered their seat to Esme.

"You don't attend meetings," Armando protested. The indisputable fact that he had lost whatever tenuous control he had over the meeting was slowly dawning on him.

"My friends and I are granted a perpetual seat on the Governors Board of Hogwarts due to the money we put into the school. Oswald? How much were we contributing? Percentage wise?" Esme questioned.

"Watch this. It's going to be so good," Finn whispered to Albus.

"We were contributing seventy five percent of the scholarship funds for indigent students. We also are involved in the maintenance support, the capital improvement account and the House Elf retirement endowment. We also pay most of the faculty's salary," Oswald announced.

"Well, it's just the man I need to speak to about a raise," Filius Flitwick quipped. "I'm not getting what I was promised."

There was a round of appreciative laughter from the Hogwarts Faculty and even Albus had to smile.

Oswald pulled his glasses down his nose and peered over them. "Filius Flitwick, Charms Master, I presume?"

"Impoverished Charms Master," Filius retorted.

"We've been attempting to increase the salary but they want us to foot the entire increase," Oswald explained. "Yet Armando Dippet won't tell us when the meetings are. They just want us to open our purses wide while they spend, spend, spend. I'm sorry, we agree that you're quite underpaid but we need to be involved with the finances as it is our money we're spending."

"Oswald," Emse dryly inserted. "This meeting is about Albus Dumbledore, alleged social deviant and supposed Pied Piper of our impressionable youth. Finance meeting is next week."

Therese Vance attempted to turn her laugh into a cough. She failed miserably and Armando's eyes narrowed.

"The Courtesan Guild is sponsoring Hogwarts?" Albus whispered to Finn.

"Not really. The Courtesan Guild Heads have a Financial consortium on the side. They invest here and there based on information. They're very tight with the Goblins but they have a few charity projects that they support from part of their profits. Orphan relief, advancement of magical creatures' right and I think they sponsor some of the magical animal reserves. Education is very big among the Guild as you need to have a brain to work for them. Not just looks. Emse's gotten involved as you were a client… actually… _**are**_ a client as you've paid until three this afternoon. She'll try to be polite but she'll use her financial hammer on Dippet's dangly-bits if necessary."

Albus winced at that mental thought.

"Listen to me, you didn't do anything wrong. Hiring from the Courtesan Guild is a legal transaction as you're both consenting adults. Homosexuality is also legal as long as not in a public place. You've done nothing wrong, nothing at all, Albus. I've only just met you, but I refuse to believe that you're a paedo. If you are one, well, I'll throw you under the Hogwarts Express myself."

"Any more witnesses, Black?" Morgan Moody requested. As he was head of the legal committee, he had taken charge of the proceedings.

"I think they're all here, Governor Moody. Does Headmaster Dippet have any witnesses? They all seem to be for the defence."

"The Governors were at the various events of this weekend. They'll be called to testify," Morgan explained. "Normally, it would be a cause for recusal, but since that would leave us with no one to vote, we decided to overlook that. Shall we begin?"

* * *

As Albus feared, the Governors Malfoy, Crabbe, Judgson and Wilkes were quite virulent, spinning tales about how Albus had flaunted his homosexuality at the various weekend events. Finn didn't protest, didn't offer any crushing cross examinations, just a "Thank you for that rather lurid tale. I quite enjoyed it."

Moody, acting as the Lead Governor, warned Finn to behave after Black quipped that Wilkes should write fiction for a living, and Finn easily agreed. There was a brief recess and Finn motioned for Albus to stay at the table.

"I thought you were here to help me," Albus protested.

"I am, but it would be foolishness to cross exam them. They don't like you and they want you out of Hogwarts. Now this Hagrid fellow… is he particularly… giantish?"

"He has a kind soul," Albus growled.

"I've seen his school records, Albus. He seems a very… literal… fellow," Finn explained. "He does know about boys and girls and the beautiful differences between them?"

"Yes. He wanted to know so I sat him down and explained to him about boys and girls and babies," was Albus' response. "As a Hogwarts Instructor, I have to teach that particular class."

"Dippet hasn't remarked once on any overtly homosexual agenda in your classes?" was Finn's next question. "It's an excellent time to recruit for your Quidditch team."

"_**No**_. Kettleburn was suspended twice over his talks so he's no longer allowed to give it. I follow the guidelines of the class. I don't… promote… my lifestyle," Albus said.

"Oh yes, the mating hypogriffs. It's amazing that any of that year's students will reproduce," quipped Finn. "I understand that mating hypogriffs are rather… exuberant and… physical."

"I wouldn't know, I'm not into bestiality," was Albus' prim response.

* * *

For his opening argument, Finn handed out copies of the two days' worth of _The Daily Prophet._ He handed out enough copies for Albus' supporters and then he sat down on the edge of his table.

"Kindly turn to page four in the Sunday edition," he instructed. The papers rustled as they turned to the page. "Kindly follow as I read the paragraph beginning with, 'I was pleasantly surprised by the unexpected appearance of Albus Dumbledore to the concert.'."

He had a pleasing reading voice but that didn't mean that Albus wanted to listen to him.

"I fail to see any comments, direct or anecdotal that might imply that Albus Dumbledore was not perfectly well behaved. Yes, his Phoenix decided to break out in a spirited descant during 'Ode to Joy' but I often find myself humming along at concerts. Sadly, I don't have the voice that Fawkes does, so I try to contain my enthusiasm. I spoke to the various musicians and they are all quite willing to appear here today to confirm that they hold no ill will towards Fawkes and his impromptu sing-along."

"Truly not necessary," Morgan Moody announced. "Though I speak for the Board when I assure you that we appreciate their willingness to testify. I was hoping that this would be resolved within an hour. Classes have been canceled at Hogwarts today because the faculty decided they needed to be here to bear witness, and I would prefer not to have tomorrow's classes given up for lost."

"What is the point behind you reading _The Daily Prophet_ to us? We all can read," Malfoy inserted.

"Not only can we read, but we can also look at the pretty pictures. I don't see al-Hamal Arietis Black Vance St. Rhys in any of the pictures with Albus. I had Gregory Greengrass, the photographer, send over all his photos of the evening, and I can enter them all into evidence. There is exactly one picture of al-Hamal and Albus and that picture was a special request by Albus. He wanted the picture of them together with the understanding that it wasn't to be published. He merely desired the picture for personal reasons. There is nothing in these pictures that seems close to being the raree show that Governor Malfoy described in such lurid details."

There was a mutter from several Governors and Finn sadly shook his head.

"He didn't want the picture published because of who el-Hamal is. Must I remind you who he is?" Finn asked. "It's a lovely picture."

He slid it toward Albus who gingerly picked it up. He hadn't realized that Greengrass had gotten a candid picture of the three of them. Fawkes was perched on his shoulder and Malcolm had been holding a flute of champagne for the Phoenix to take a sip. Albus was grinning in amusement at his familiar as Fawkes had been mentally bemoaning the lack of strawberries in the fizzy drink. It was a wonderful picture, a moment that Albus could look back upon and realize that he had been completely and utterly… happy.

The photo-Fawkes stopped drinking long enough to rub his face against the photo-Albus. That loving gesture caused Albus' eyes to fill with tears.

_We are mage and familiar. I will never leave you,_ the chick Fawkes had assured him.

"No mention of Albus kissing, sexing, or otherwise misbehaving at the concert or at William Weasley's party afterwards. There is a report of a scandalous tango, but not from his particular Hogwarts professor. Miss Merrythought, if you need me to defend you for breaking your moral contract, I'll gladly defend you for free. All I ask…. is for a tango with you," Finn requested. He gave Galatea a suggestive look and then announced that perhaps he needed clearance from his Heart Healer before he tangoed with the witch.

Galatea said she'd talk to him later about it and Black laughed.

"William, how would you describe Albus' behavior this weekend?" Finn questioned.

Albus simply couldn't concentrate on the trial. It was a farce anyway, as Dippet wanted rid of him.

He continued to stare at the photo, admiring Malcom's easy way of being Malcolm. How happy Fakwes had been to be there with him…and Albus repeatedly swallowed.

He had nothing. No familiar as Fawkes had repudiated him, a rightfully vexed Malcolm was pretending not to know him, his career was in shambles and his sexuality was about to become front page fodder. Albus Dumbledore had no faith in the whimsical Phineas Black who seemed to be more interested in dancing with Galatea.

"Thank you very much for your time. Do you have any questions for William?" the barrister asked.

A small piece of paper appeared in front of Albus, and he automatically read it.

_Don't get discouraged. We're here for you. Much love, Leah. _

Then in Elphias' scrawl there was, _Finny's unorthodox but he's the best at what he does. After the circus is finished and the tents are torn down, you and Fawkes need to come for a nice, quiet dinner. Bring Malcolm also. It's wonderful to see you blushing. Love ~ E._

"I'd like to question Rubeus Hagrid,"

Albus blinked and continued to stare at the photo.

"Mr. Hagrid, I'm sure you understand the severity of the charges of which Professor Dumbledore is accused."

Silence. Hagrid said not a word as Finn's bombastic verbosity had bludgeoned him into silence.

"Lad, Albus is in a lot of trouble right now," Finn softly explained. "You know what they're saying about him."

"Yes," Hagrid sniffled.

"You know about boys and girls, right?"

"Professor Dumbledore told me all about that stuff," admitted Hagrid.

"You like girls, don't you?" Finn questioned. "For example, Ms. McGonagall is quite pretty, isn't she? It's alright, Hagrid, women don't mind if you think they're pretty."

Hagrid looked at where Ms. McGonagall was sitting and he blushed.

"Yes," Hagrid softly confessed. "She is."

"Now, Hagrid. Some people are a little concerned about your closeness with Albus Dumbledore," Finn explained.

"He's like a father to me," Hagrid rumbled. "Since my father died… he's been there for me."

"You two are close?" Finn asked.

Hagrid nodded his head once.

"Are you physically close?"

The teenager who was bigger than most grown men stared at Finn in confusion.

"They said that you and Albus are close like boys and girls are…."

Black never got a chance to finish his question as Hagrid leapt from his seat and grabbed him by his throat.

"You take that back! You take that back, right now!"

The barrister was struggling to remove Hagrid's thick hands from his throat and he even managed to land a few kicks on the half-giant.

"He's like a father to me. When my dad died, he said he'd keep an eye on me. You take that back! Now! _**NOW**_!" The giant roared.

William Weasley. Morgan Moody, Elphias Doge and Malcolm St. Rhys sprung to defend the besieged barrister Black but Albus was already there. He held out his hands in a beseeching manner.

"Hagrid, please… put him down," he softly requested.

"You heard what he said about you!" the tearful half-giant wept. "It's not _**true**_!"

"Let him go, Hagrid, please," Albus repeated. "Your father wouldn't want this."

"My dad's dead," sobbed Hagrid. "You're the only one I got and he's saying…LIES!"

"Let him down, Hagrid," Albus softly ordered.

The boy let loose, and Phineas Black collapsed. He was breathing shallowly and he grabbed Malcolm by his shoulder.

"Request a recess…." The barrister gasped. "Saw my life… flash before my eyes… Saw Father…"

"He popped into the landscape to see what the ruckus was," Malcolm chirpily informed his half-brother. "Then ran."

Meanwhile, Albus was soothing the frantic Hagrid.

"Just settle down, my dear boy. He knows that I've never touched you like that… he had just had to ask you…" Albus assured Hagrid.

"I did wrong again, didn't I? But they were talking rubbish about you!" Hagrid sadly announced. He roughly embraced Dumbledore in a bear hug and wept copious tears on Albus' black suit. "If anything happens to you, I won't have no one!"

"Request for recess has been approved," Morgan Moody announced. "Reconvene in one hour. Armando? The Hogwarts House Elves will be able to accommodate us for lunch?"

* * *

Albus was unable to eat his meal as he was far too busy consoling Hagrid. Matron Maloney had finally taken Hagrid to the infirmary for a Calming Draught but by then lunch was cold. A House Elf offered to make him a new meal, but Albus just shook his head. He was too tense to eat and he had finally decided to hide from everyone. His nerves grew more and more shaky and he kept taking deep breaths to calm himself.

He had to stop himself from mentally reaching for Fawkes as Fawkes wouldn't be there to answer.

When the trial reconvened, Minerva McGonagall was next on the stand. She looked like a cat that had fallen into a vat of cream and Albus' nerves were even more on edge.

"Good afternoon, Miss McGonagall," Finn warmly greeted her. "Now, I don't want you to be nervous, and please, whatever you do, try not to assault me if I ask you a too personal question. Once a day is enough for me. Do you promise not to hurt me?"

Minerva nodded her head once in agreement.

"Professor Dumbledore and you have been spending a great deal of non-class time together," Finn prompted. "There is a concern that perhaps Professor Dumbledore has taken advantage of your youthful infatuation with him."

Minerva tittered. She quickly composed herself and murmured an apology.

"As I was saying, Albus Dumbledore is apparently quite the Lothario and they fear that you two are quite…. Physically… close. Why are you laughing, Ms. McGonagall? This is a serious matter! Your parents are here, determined to seek justice on your loss of innocence!"

The Head Girl guffawed. Loudly. Her parents laughed just as hard in the audience.

"Please tell me, what is so funny about Albus Dumbledore taking advantage of youthful, vulnerable female such as you?"

"He's gay as goose," Minerva stated between her peals of laughter.

"Did he tell you he was gay?"

"He's got a Phoenix for a familiar. He likes to wear purple and high heeled, dragon skin boots with buckles on them. What part of flaming, don't you understand?" Minerva quipped. "I'm sorry, Professor Dumbledore. I've known for _**years**_. I mean, Annabelle Malfoy hiked her skirt up to here, unbuttoned her blouse and threw herself at him to get a better grade in Transfiguration, repeatedly offered to do _**ANYTHING**_ to pass, and he told her to study! He's never looked at any of the students that way."

Albus had long since forgotten to breath and in fact, was close to swooning. That's why Annabelle Malfoy had kept haranguing him about a passing grade? Governor Malfoy was loudly protesting Minerva's slandering his daughter, but no one else was defending him. Annabella Malfoy was renowned as a world class tart.

"Miss McGonagall, I'm rather disappointed that as Hogwarts' Head Girl you have nothing better to do than to gossip about your professor's sex life," Finn announced. "So, who on the staff is dating?"

"Well," Minerva looked nervously at the row of teachers that were sitting just behind Albus. She swallowed once and then whispered, "Must I?"

"Yes, Miss McGonagall, you must. Tell us all the tawdry details about what happens in Hogwarts. If Albus hasn't taken your virtue and Mr. Hagrid's innocence, there must be something you don't wish to reveal. Come now, don't tell me that he sits in his suite afterhours, after all his papers are graded, knitting socks and listening to chamber music?"

Why, that was exactly what his normal, restorative night entailed.

"Who is Albus Dumbledore sleeping with, is he's not sleeping with his students?" Finn questioned.

"I can't say!" Minerva insisted. She looked pained as though she was keeping a horrible, horrible secret.

Armando Dippet rose from his seat. "_**Tell**_ or face expulsion, Ms. McGonagall."

"I'm not…." Albus weakly protested. No one heard him as a piping voice announced.

"Oh bloody hell, I'm sleeping with Albus," Filius Flitwick loudly announced. "He lets me top him every night. It's the only reason why I'm finishing out the year at Hogwarts. Merlin knows it's not because of the pay as Armando Dippet wants the instructors to all take a vow of celibacy. I told Albus that I simply couldn't deal with being celibate for the entire school term and he explained to me how the sexual benefits are wonderful here at Hogwarts."

"No!" Armando Dippet stood up from his seat and roared. "You can't be… you're a dueling Master."

"I'm just a gay wand," Filius admitted with a lewd smile.

Armando Dippet sat down with a loud thunk.

"Well, yes, Albus does love how I flick and swish my wand," Filius purred. For added bonus, he made a rather obscene flick and swishing motion. He blew Albus a kiss and being a Charms Master, Albus FELT the wet kiss on his cheek. To his horror, Albus knew he was blushing.

Albus gasped, his heart pounding in his chest. "No… no… no…We've never! Filius, I know you're angry because I never spoke to you, but Dippet harangued me until I agreed not to talk to you. I agreed so to protect your reputation."

"I don't have any problems with my reputation. I'll tell _The Daily Prophet _that we're lovers," Filius loudly exclaimed.

"At least he lets you _**sleep**_, Filius. I'm not in the best physical shape, does that stop him?" Horace Slughorn chimed in. "Merlin's beard, the stamina on him and he's thirty years my senior! Fortunately, he takes turn with Beery and me; else I'd be quite dead from exhaustion."

Beery chimed in with an agreement that all together too graphic for Albus. Kettleburn then made an even ruder comment about Albus' supposed wand length which earned him yet another suspension of unknown duration from an apoplexying Armando Dippet . The other instructors, male and female alike all voiced their appreciative comments about having had sex with Albus. Then Galatea Merrythought smiled. Her grin made Albus' blood run ice cold.

"No… no… Galatea…" Albus tearfully pleaded. "It's bad enough as it is. Don't feel the need to assist in my abject humiliation. I thought we were friends, Galatea. Merlin's beard, Armando, I'll cheerfully resign if I can only escape this insane asylum. Have you all gone mad? I've never bedded any of you! I've been celibate for over forty years!"

"Albus lets me watch him and the boys," the senior professor at Hogwatts loudly announced. "And sometimes, when I've been very good, we…."

She winked at Albus and then blew him a kiss. He felt it on his lips and there was a bit of tongue involved.

"In the Quidditch field, under the stars… in the Great Hall, when we're supposedly playing ten-pin bowling….In the library in the restricted section…After he defeated Gellert…"

"What is this place? Is this a place for educating our young? Or is Armando Dippet completely unawares of the fact that Hogwarts is in fact, a Roman Bath House?" Phineas Black loudly announced. "If you wish to suspend Albus Dumbledore for breaking Dippet's rules of propriety, then you need to rid yourself of every single professor at the school!"

Albus hadn't eaten at all that day and he was feeling a might dizzy. The world rotated on its axis, and Albus Dumbledore did not gaily swoon, no, he attempted a manly face forward plant. While everyone was attending the stricken Albus, Aberforth, as per the plan, let loose his little black lamb who then ran straightway to his favorite playmate, Algar Crabbe, Hogwarts Governor.

"It's alright, love, I've caught you. Just close your eyes," Malcolm whispered to the ill Albus. "Close your eyes and rest."


	11. Chapter 11

Thanks to MM for her suggestions.

* * *

Albus hadn't eaten at all that day and he was feeling a mite dizzy. The world rotated on its axis, and Albus Dumbledore did not gaily swoon, no, he attempted a manly face forward plant. While everyone was attending the stricken Albus, Aberforth, as per the plan, let loose his little black lamb who then ran straightway to his favorite playmate, Algar Crabbe, Hogwarts Governor.

"It's alright, love, I've caught you. Just close your eyes," Malcolm whispered to the ill Albus. "Close your eyes and rest."

Dumbledore tried to whisper an apology but he was experiencing an aura. His vision was full of wavy lines and distortions. It was by far the worst headache he had ever experienced as the pain was in both sides of his head. His stomach rebelled and he began to vomit. How shameful! To be so physically debilitated in front of the Board of Governors.

He attempted to aim his spew away from Malcolm but someone had placed a small dustbin under his chin.

"Just do it, love," Malcolm encouraged him.

"Here, this will help," Filius Flitwick advised. "Wrap it around his forehead, it will cover his eyes and it will help dampen the sound."

There was so much noise, everyone was hovering around him.

'… is he alright?" "….his color isn't good…" "We need to get him to the infirmary…" "This is your fault, Dippet. Your narrow-mindedness will be the death of him!" "He defeated Gellert and this is how he's treated?" "We can't Disapparate him to the Infirmary. Not with a migraine." "That's not a bloody Migraine, Maloney. Has anyone checked to see if he's suffering from a Hex?"

"No worries, I'll carry him. He's not heavy, he's Albus," Malcolm announced. No doubt he was wearing a cheeky smile.

"Let me," Hagrid growled. "I can lift him."

"Too much noise," Albus whispered during a pause in his retching.

"Let's wrap you up and then I'll carry you to the infirmary," Malcolm suggested. He began to carefully wrap Albus head in the muffler, effectively blocking the lights from his eyes. "Better now, love? Now I'll just cover your ears and you should hear nothing."

"I'll get Fawkes," Leah announced. "He must be beside himself with worry."

"Kettleburn, we might require a Phoenixy tranquilizer for him," Malcolm's voice was serious.

"I've got just the thing," Kettleburn assured him.

That's the last thing Albus heard as Malcolm finished wrapping him into a cocoon of blessed darkness and sweet silence.

"Fawkes is angry with me…" he sorrowfully admitted. "He repudiated me."

He was being lifted, he could feel it. There were several hands helping Hagrid lift him, and there was a brief shifting of his weight. His brother was assisting as Albus smelled goats. Hagrid was being so careful with him, as he walking very slowly and deliberately so he wouldn't jar Albus.

* * *

When he woke, Albus couldn't see and there were the oddest sounds in the background. His eyesight was so buggered up that he couldn't even detect if it was day or night. He sat up, or attempted to do so, and he felt someone's hands on his chest. The hands gently pushed him back down.

"Lie down, Albus," Galatea Merrythought ordered. "You're in no condition to sit."

"My eyes?" Albus softly questioned. "I can't see."

"Should be temporary," Galatea assured him.

"Should be?" Albus interrupted.

"Your cranial pressure increased dreadfully and there was pressure on your optical nerves. That's why you experienced visual problems during your migraines. It's been decided that the best thing to do is let your optical nerves rest so they completely repair themselves. The Healers are predicting a complete recovery as long as you follow their instructions," Merrythought assured him. "But to ensure that your optical nerves heal, the Healers have taken them 'off line', so you can't see."

"Who is teaching my classes? I need to get back to class," Albus argued.

"Miss McGonagall is teaching the younger classes. Horace, Filius and I are teaching the older classes plus ensuring that Miss McGonagall can keep up with her studies. We have a quite the assortment of cards from your younglings wishing you a complete and fast recovery," Galatea explained. "It seems Miss McGonagall is a _**stickler**_ for transformation."

"I want to see her, there are some lessons that I need to go over with her," insisted Albus.

"Don't worry; we deciphered what your scrawl was in your lesson scrolls. She's really quite good at teaching the youngsters. Besides, we can't bring her here and you can't Disapparate to Hogwarts until you're medically cleared."

"I'm not at Hogwarts?" Albus asked. "Where am I?"

"You're on a private island in the Caribbean and have been for a few weeks. Finny Black's vacation spot. He suggested that it would be a good place for you to recuperate. After we stabilized you and Fawksy, Filius created a rather nifty Charm to get you here. That wizard is simply amazing," she purred.

"Fawkes? What happened to Fawkes?" gasped Albus. He sat up once more and he grabbed Galatea's hands. "Tell me."

"Short story? Or long version?"

"Short then long," Albus foolishly commanded.

"You've been suffering from Post-Hex Traumatic Stress Disorder. You and Fawkes were hit with some pretty nasty curses during your battle and the St. Mungo's staff wasn't up to snuff. They missed what the Teutonic nightmare of a hospital overlooked also! You've been feeling rather run down these last few months, and the main reason is because you had an insidious Hex or a dozen or so sapping your strength. Fawkes was sustaining you pretty heavily there for a bit, as you would have been dead by September if it wasn't for him."

"I would have died in the battle if it wasn't for him," confessed Albus.

"Malcolm mentioned that Fawkes had Cycled early, a whole week early and that he had been feeling off color at Leah's party. Silvanus knew that those were bad signs so he examined Fawkes after you collapsed. Our little Fawksy was cyanotic and cold, quite despondent also, kept plaintively asking if anyone wanted a familiar as he swore that this time he'd be good. Fortunately, Silvanus had a few illegal Salamanders so they cheerfully obliged in creating a nice little sauna for Fawksy so his temperature stabilized. We were quite close to losing our little boy, Albus."

"Is he alright? Where is he?" Albus sounded shrill, he didn't care.

"It's just about tea time, so he's splashing in the lagoon as part of his aqua therapy. Silvanus called in Newt Scamander, who diagnosed Fawksy as being dangerously magically depleted, heartbroken and lacking the will to live. That was in addition to his multiple Hexes from which he was suffering. You were still unconscious, so when Newt wanted to take Fawkes to a Phoenix reserve for some intensive nesting… well… Elphias and I agreed. Aberforth disagreed as he thought Fawkes wouldn't want to be sent away."

Galatea sounded quite nervous as well she should. An ailing Fawkes turned over to a stranger! It was Newt though, an old friend, but still, someone that Fawkes didn't know!

"Malcolm went with them, so Fawkes wasn't alone," continued Galatea. "Fawkes nested with a covey of Phoenixes, and in spite of their care, his health didn't improve. They were quite good to him, Newt assures me, took him in a full member of their covey and they nursed him. Fawkes refused to eat and kept sobbing. It was decided to send him here along with one of the Phoenixes who had become quite attached to our little boy. Agni wishes to turn him into a proper little Phoenix as it seems he has all sorts of bad habits, including quaffing something called 'Phoenix Fizzy drink'? Malcolm makes it for him when he's been especially good?"

"Strawberry champagne," Albus explained.

"Albus? Strawberry champagne? Is Fawkes old enough for champagne?" Galatea laughed. "Well, it's really quite sweet as Agni insists on nesting time with Fawkes, so he scrunches himself real small so he can hide under her wing. She preens him then. Agni is not sure what to think about his little mage dolly, but she's tolerating it right now. Most Phoenixes chicks don't have dollies."

"Dolly?"

"It was a sweetener for him to agree to go the Phoenix reserve as he was refusing to abandon you. Malcolm had a… Senzi… Zenzi…make up a little mage doll for him. It does look a little bit like you, with the hair and beard, plus it's clad in purple and spangles. Fawkes obsessively grooms it and I believe that he even talks to it. I know he takes it everywhere with him. Even now, it's probably splashing in the lagoon with Fawkes."

Galatea Merrythought laughed, but stopped when she realized that Albus was near tears.

"Oh, dear heart," she breathed. "It's _**not**_ your fault about Fawkes. It _**is**_ your fault that you were so blinkered that you decided not to confide in _**your friends**_ the problems you were having. You wanted to handle this on your own, and Fawkes picked up on that."

"I don't even have a job now," Albus protested. "Thanks to my… _**friends**_…, everyone knows that I'm a mattress muncher. Did I make the front page of the Prophet?"

"No, because Minister Vance ripped Armando Dippet a new arsehole as she firmly blamed your collapse on him. While he was still bleeding from his bum the group that holds the Hogwarts pursebook took a hammer to his dangly bits and threatened to pull _**all**_ their funding. They refused to close their eyes to Armando Dippet's personal vendetta against you. Their threat would have ensured that there wasn't enough in the coffers to finish the school term. So, we had the Hero of the Realm having a complete physical, emotional and magical collapse, the Minister of Magic enraged and no money in the Hogwarts' bank account. Plus it was obvious that Armando had no control over his lusty faculty and he was only focusing on your alleged bad behavior."

"Oh no," Albus whimpered. Normally a brave man, he could just imagine how angry Armando would be.

"Well not only do you still have a job, you nearly got promoted! Vance gave Dippet the what for and threatened to dismiss him and place you in as Headmaster." Merrythought laughed. "But Finny suggested that since you had managed to work yourself into a complete physical collapse that perhaps you'd much prefer a raise. What you need now, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, is to take a nice long nap. Someone will be here when you wake," Galatea assured him.

"I'm not tired," he protested. "I want Fawkes."

"Fawkes is in the lagoon right now," Merrythought reminded him. "Go to sleep."

He was in mid-protest when he fell asleep.

* * *

Fawkes paddled in the lagoon. The man, Newt Scamander, had given him a list of calisthenics that he needed to do every day in order for him to regain his strength. While splashing in Albus' tub was fun, paddling back and forth in the lagoon was not quite as pleasurable, and was a great deal like work. In fact, it was down right exhausting, as his Phoenix paddling was no longer quite as energetic as it had been when he first started. He was beginning to struggle and the beach was so far away.

_Oh dear, I hope I can make it! _

Fortunately, a watchful Agni caught wind of his increasing fatigue and she plucked him out of the water. He was carefully placed into a blazing fire so to dry off so he wouldn't catch a chill. After a long, luxurious bask in the fire, Agni gently informed Fawkes that he needed to rest.

_Albus?_ He plaintively requested after he left the warmth of the fire. _Have you heard anything?_

_No, little one. Now, you need to rest. _

_But… but… but…I want to know how Albus is! _

_Little one, you need to remember that you're a Phoenix nestling, not a mage's familiar. You need to take care of yourself first and not worry about him._

Fawkes nodded his head once in sad acknowledgment of that unhappy news, and he scrunched himself into a very small feathered ball. Agni gently ruffled his crest feathers and covered him with her wing. She nuzzled Fawkes, grooming and fussing over him until his feathers were fluffy.

_Who is a handsome little fellow?_

Fawkes wiggled in delight. He had shyly admitted to Agni that all he remembered of his mother was her fluffing his freshly bathed feathers and teasing him about what a fine-looking Phoenix he was. His Phoenix godmother had easily picked up his hunger for covey closeness and she had taken on the role of confidant and companion.

_Who is such a striking little chick?_

_I am! I am!!_

_Yes, you are a gorgeous Phoenix. Now close your eyes so you can rest._

He attempted to do so, but he just couldn't get comfortable. Something was missing. It was preventing him from relaxing enough to sleep. He knew exactly what it was, and he hoped that Agni wouldn't mind.

…_Dolly?... May I have my dolly?_

_You want to listen to his heartbeat, don't you?_

Sniffle.

_Y-y-y-yes. I m-m-m-iss him. I know he d-d-doesn't care about me…. Because I was b-b-b-bad… but I m-m-m-iss him. He was my covey… after the d-d-d-dragon… I saw… him… and…chirped as loud as I could… he saved me… from the dragon… and he took me with him… as I didn't have… a-a-a-aanyone… and… and…I … was… so… scared and he let me listen to his heartbeat… and I didn't feel alone… It's odd… not hearing it... What if something …h-h-h-h-happens… to his heart? Causes it to stop? What if they d-d-d-don't notice in time?_

Fawkes trembled and began to weep.

_Go ahead, Fawkes. You can cry. _

_I just don't fit in anywhere! I'm not a proper Phoenix! I'm not a suitable familiar! S-s-s-sometimes, I think I hear him, mentally calling for me… and I know… it's not him…_

Carefully, Agni picked up the mage dolly that she had been given for safekeeping prior to Fawkes' mid afternoon swim. She tucked it underneath her wing so it was right next to Fawkes. The nestling ceased sobbing and he rested his head on it. Within a few minutes, he was deeply asleep.

_Malcolm?_

Agni, as a feral Phoeix, was quite uncomfortable talking with humankind. But the male seemed to genuinely care for Fawkes and he had made no move to bespell her into becoming his familiar. Agni's covey had warned her about that possibility but still she had decided it was imperative that she come to this strange land to help the shattered little nestling. He was far too young to be on his own on the outside.

Oh! If only she had found Fawkes before the mage had, she would have adopted him as her own. Sadly, Fawkes had imprinted on the mage and he had picked up all sorts of bad habits. It didn't mean that Agni loved her little nestling any less, but sometimes, Fawkes was a bit unconventional in his behavior and quite enthusiastic about the oddest things. Chamber music? Acid pops? This stranger named Malcolm?

"Yes, my lady Agni? What may I do for you?" He politely asked.

_Perhaps you could make some of that fizzy drink? The bubbles seem to make the little one cheerful. He's in a very bad way and he's terribly exhausted from his swim._

"Absolutely. Would you like some?"

_I think __**not**__. It is medicinal for him. _

"It's polite to offer, m'lady, though I knew you'd decline my offer. I have some Salmon being sent in along with some millet and other grains. It will arrive in a few hours and I'll make some… fizzy drink… for Fawkes when I prepare that. There will be assorted fresh fruit also so the strawberries will be quite fresh."

_Salmon would be nice, and I like your selection of fruit._

"How's our little boy doing?"

_He's still missing his human something fierce. Is this Albus truly irate with him?_

"No, Albus was intent on being a splendid martyr … and Fawkes was being his usual irrepressible, overly Albusy-focused self. Albus has this genetic urge to be a sacrificial lamb and Fawkes wanted to merrily help him on his way to self-annihilation as he mistakenly believed it would make Albus happy," Malcolm softly explained. He kept his voice low so not to wake the slumbering Fawkes. "Albus didn't want any assistance in being a sacrifice as he thought his martyrdom was close at hand."

Agni blinked and hesitantly offered a comment that Malcolm seemed peeved.

"He used his magic on me," growled Malcolm. "I've never had a client turn his wand on me before! I feel rather… violated…It's a rather unique feeling in my profession. The only reason I'm here is because I had already planned a vacation. A magnanimous Finny decided this would be a perfect place for Albus to recover from his physical collapse so I'm Albus-sitting."

Agni was confused, utterly bewildered by this human... Malcolm… he seemed angry… yet he had volunteered to squire Fawkes to the Phoenix Preserve. Ah… perhaps he had been charmed by her little nestling. Fawkes was all wide-eyed eagerness to be helpful, and perhaps his zeal had endeared him to the human. Her adolescence Phoenix was rather lovable, Agni knew. He also would be quite the handsome fellow when he finally Metamorphosized into his adult form.

_Fawkes is looking for a new mage._

She offered that hesitantly as Agni wanted nothing more than to take Fawkes far, far away from the maddening crowd, to love and cherish her little nestling as though he was one of hers. Yet, Fawkes had been affected deeply by his imprinting of Albus. Perhaps, he wouldn't be happy with her.

"No, no, no. I'm not taking Fawkes away from Albus as I don't believe that either of them truly wants to be separated. They're quite happy with their co-dependency."

Agni blinked once more and she decided that she truly didn't understand humans.

* * *

His attempts to speak with Fawkes or Malcolm were so smoothly deterred that he didn't realize at first what was being done.

_Fawkes is splashing in the lagoon. He's busying flying around the island, intent on regaining his strength. He's nestled with Agni and I'd prefer not to disturb them._

_Malcolm is not on the island at the moment. He's indisposed. Had to pop into London for a few hours, I'm sure he'll be back. _

He also attempted to mentally call for Fawkes, but the Phoenix didn't answer.

During his recovery, he was visited by what seemed one thousand of his closest friends. One of whom was Elphias, minus Leah, who was uncomfortable Apparating due to her pregnancy, but had still loaded Elphias down with assorted Muggle sweets; liquorice wands, fizzy cola bottles, jelly babies, chocolate buttons and other delicacies. While Albus enjoyed sneaking them as Matron Maloney didn't approve of such treats, it just wasn't the same. No Fawkes dive-bombing his stash to swipe the best treats.

His best efforts at sending a few giant chocolate buttons to Fawkes were unsuccessful as Silvanus Kettleburn flatly refused to believe that Phoenixes enjoyed chockies. Fawkes did! He always insisted on inspecting every batch of chocolates that Albus acquired from Honeydukes so he could snare the choicest chocolates.

Fillus Flitwick was kind enough to Charm a powerful locked box in which Albus' wand was placed. No one would be able to open it, except for Albus. Gellert's old wand, which Dumbledore had nicknamed 'DeathStick', unnerved Albus and with his current ill health, he feared that he'd be easy pickings for someone interested in obtaining the ill-omened wand. He slept with his old wand under his pillow, though he wasn't sure how effective his defense would be.

Galatea and Filius visited often, and they insisted that he walk the grounds for exercise. Galatea guiding him along with the liberal use of a cane made it possible. Sometimes, he'd sit in the sun, content that he could feel the warmth of the sun on his face and hear the sounds of the ocean crashing. It must be a tropical paradise, and he prayed that his vision would return soon. The healers weren't very helpful on that score, reminding him that he was headache free since his collapse and that he needed to be patient.

But in his sightless word, his other senses became more acute. He could smell Filius' cologne, hear the slight rustle of Horace's silken robes and he perceived the heart piercing beauty of Phoenix song at the oddest moments. It wasn't Fawkes singing because the voice was of a higher octave.

"Is that Agni singing?" He asked Galatea during one brief concert.

"Simply magnificent, isn't it? Yes, that's Agni," Galatea confirmed. "I wonder about what she's singing."

"It's a nesting song," Albus explained. "It comforts and soothes an anxious nestling."

Their first few sleepless nights had found Albus attempting to duplicate the soft sounds in order to comfort the orphaned Phoenix. He hadn't quite managed it, but Fawkes had been appreciative of his effort.

"What is the problem with Fawkes? Why is she singing that song? Is he ill? I want to know," Albus demanded.

"Fawkes…" Galatea paused. Her voice was uneasy.

"I'll handle this, love." inserted Filius. "Go away, splash in the ocean for a bit."

After a few minutes of quiet, Filius continued, "Fawkes is still doing quite poorly."

"I desire to see him," protested Albus.

Yes, he was currently blind, but the dangerous Filius knew perfectly ruddy well what he meant.

"Albus… Newt believes that it wouldn't be a good idea. We tried that when you were first ill, and he worked himself into a proper state… and we nearly lost him again. Fawkes is brokenhearted besides suffering from chronic exhaustion and post-Hex syndrome. Did you truly… repudiate… him as your familiar?"

"_**NO**_!" Albus insisted. "We had a slight disagreement and my little featherbrained friend got worked up. I didn't have time to calm him down as I had my headache and the meeting."

Dumbledore put his hands on his temple.

"Are you having a headache, Albus?" Filius quietly asked. "Should I get the Matron?"

"I'm feeling a bit overwhelmed, Filius. I don't even know everyone found out about my disciplinary meeting. Did Bill Weasley marshal the troops?"

"Good heavens, no! We couldn't get him or Moody involved in our nefarious plans as well, they're _**respectable**_. Where was I? Oh, Fawkes attempted to mindspeak Galatea. Unfortunately, she and I were…well… you can guess… and she didn't hear him. He was nearly wild in his fear for you, and he decided to mindspeak Miss McGonagall. Woke our Head Girl out of a sound sleep and told her that it was imperative to locate Galatea. She found the two of us and interrupted our pleasant activities… We went to your quarters, you were long gone and Fawkes was in a frightful way. After Fawkes informed Galatea about everything, Miss McGonagall was sent to Kettleburn with Fawkes."

"I contacted Esme who went to Malcolm's apartment. She couldn't rouse him… Esme thought that you had _**Hexed**_ him. I calmed her down, assured her that you wouldn't have done that, went there, examined Sleeping Beauty and realized that you had _**Charmed**_ him to sleep for twelve hours. That gave me a brilliant idea. By now, you were in the infirmary in dire need of relief from your headache and well, we needed _**time**_ to rally a defense."

"You used time turners," Albus stated.

"Yes, Galatea and I took care of you and Malcolm. We Time Turned you both. We dropped you off into a nice quiet ward. Maloney knew you'd come in complaining of a headache before you did. She slipped you the long acting Potions that you always refused to take and you slept for almost a full day. When Malcolm woke, he was exceedingly _**vexed**_ with you." Filius shook his head in disapproval over Albus' stunt.

"Oh no," Albus whispered.

"Fortunately, I had Charmed his Owl so we got a complete replica of Dippet's rant. That settled him down as it was evident that you were so rattled that you weren't thinking like a _**rational**_ human being. Fawkes' agitation also helped prove that thesis."

That comment stung but it was the truth.

"Elphias suggested that you needed an advocate and we contacted Phineas Black. Malcolm agreed that he was the perfect choice but failed to mention Black was his half-brother. Galatea. Horace and I thought your best bet was a solid, legal defense, but Finny believed that your best bet was to turn the proceedings into a complete farce. Dear Great Aunt Tessie…"

"By Godric Gryffindor's bloody sword, you're not related to her also?" Albus asked.

"No, but I will always think of her as Great Aunt Tessie after this," explained Filius. "Great Aunt Tessie was horrified by the rampant bigotry at Hogwarts and helped create key parts of Finny's defense. She's the one that suggested that I was allegedly banging you every night."

"You shouldn't have done that…"

"Why? They already look down on me because of my physical stature, my goblin ancestory. But they won't dare say anything for fear of me calling them out and bouncing them to Lincolnshire. I am currently the only retired, undefeated Dueling Master. Might as well as use my reputation for good," chirped the irrepressible Filius.

"But… "

"Tish tosh, Albus! Now, you need to settle down, so you can rest. It's time for your nap," chirped an exuberant Filius.

The amount of vigor Filius exhibited was positively obscene, and since the wizard was openly dating Galatea, he probably needed as much vulgar and crass vitality that he possessed in order to keep Merrythought happy. Albus felt tremendously drained in comparison.

"This amount of sleeping isn't natural," protested Albus.

"What's good for the witch is good for the mage," quoted Filius as Albus fell asleep.

* * *

"What's good for the witch is good the mage," Albus thought upon awaking. Bloody hell, Malcolm was magicking him into sleeping the day away. He murmured a countercharm and then closed his eyes. He dozed off again and woke when someone entered the room.

"Sleeping beauty is still slumbering," murmured Malcolm. "I guess that makes me your Prince Charming, as I was raised to be charming, not sincere. Finny got the earnestness, I got the good looks."

"I thought your genuineness was your greatest aspect," Albus assured the courtesan.

"You're awake which means that you know the countercharm. I had hoped to hold this tête-à-tête when you were feeling better… Actually, scratch that, I was hoping to completely avoid this palaver. Very well, your money has been refunded, Esme had decided to reimburse you the Stable Cost of hiring me," Malcolm stated. "Esme pledged that you would have a wonderful weekend and I can safely say that it didn't work out as she had hoped."

"Not necessary," protested Albus. "She should keep the fee. I want you both to have your compensation."

"I didn't get a single bronze knut, Albus. I waived my fee as that was the only way you could have any hopes of hiring someone. She heard me talking rubbish to Gareth, how I'd waive my fee just to have a few minutes alone with Albus Dumbledore, International Magical Hero. Naturally, the mercenary bitch held me to it."

Malcolm softly laughed at his recklessness.

"I'll never be able to afford to hire you again," murmured a distraught Albus.

What rubbish! How could he even think of hiring Malcolm again? Dippet would have kittens! Litters upon litters of fuzzy kittens!

"What makes you think Esme would let you Hire from her stables again? You used your magic on me, Albus. That's a violation of the Gentleman's agreement and an Unforgivable breach of contract," reminded a serious Malcolm.

"That's true," admitted Albus. Really, there was no defense for what he had done. "I know my apology means nothing to you, but I am deeply, deeply sorry."

"You should be! Just because you're the most bloody powerful mage that ever taken a piss doesn't give you the bloody right to use your magic on someone. Just asked Gellert's victims," snapped Malcolm.

Albus rubbed his eyes, hoping that Malcolm couldn't see his tears. His eyes were getting stronger, as he could see a Malcolm-shaped blur.

"Yes, it seems that he and I have some similar character flaws," admitted Albus. "Perhaps that explained the strength of our infatuation."

The mattress shifted and Albus felt a soft silken fabric placed in his hands.

"Oh, buger it! Dab your eyes. I hate seeing grown men weep. I prefer you cheeky myself," growled Malcolm. "You're a gormless eejit, Albus. You have friends, Albus, yet you decided to act like Billy no-mate and handle the Dippet situation on your own. I hope that you've learned your lesson from this. You have friends, good friends, though you act like a daft prat."

Dumbledore agreed, and then continued to dab his eyes.

"Is Fawkes alright? I haven't heard him sing," questioned Albus. "I've heard… Agni?"

"Yes, m'lady Agni is singing but Fawkes is mute. Broken-hearted Phoenixes don't sing, Albus, and you shattered his spirit. He frequently cries and he has stopped offering to be my familiar," Malcolm said. "I believe that he's convinced that he's a failure as a Phoenix and as a wizard familiar. Agni is struggling to persuade him to fly away with her, but he insists on staying here until you're better."

"You got him a Zenzi doll," inserted Albus.

"Yes, it's rather sad. He talks to his little Dumbledore doppelganger all the time. Plaintively assuring it that if the dolly only gave Fawkes one more chance, he'd be the best familiar ever."

Malcolm's glib comment was like a spear thrust through Albus' heart.

"He deserves better than me," admitted Albus. "I didn't have the patience with him that I should have. It's my fault how he acts."

"Yes, as Fawkes needs guidance on how to act in social situations. He's a Phoenix, Albus, not your best friend."

"He's both," protested Albus. "I'd like to see him."

"I'll ask him. He might refuse," Malcolm stated. "I'll see if he'll be willing to walk you around the grounds."

"Walk?" questioned Albus.

"Yes, you can walk. You just need directions so you don't fall off a cliff. It's a perfect situation, you'll have to trust that he won't send you arse over teakettle, which you _**deserve**_. Fawkes needs reassurance that you rely on him."

* * *

Fawkes was snuggled under Agni's wing when he heard Malcolm approach.

"I'd like to speak with Fawkes," Malcolm requested. "I require assistance that only he can do."

If the Phoenix had ears, Fawkes' ears would have perked up. As it was, his hopeful heart skipped a beat. He could be useful! Perhaps, Malcolm was slowly realizing how practical a Phoenix could be. Especially a well-behaved, properly subservient familiar! Carefully, he hid the dolly, as really, it was rather silly for a Phoenix to require a security blanket. Yet, Fawkes wouldn't allow anyone to take it from him as it was his last link to Albus.

_YES! I CAN HELP!_

He hid his face under Agni's wing when Fawkes realized how frantic he sounded.

_Go help the man,_ Agni suggested. _Perhaps, if you're quite helpful, he can make you some fizzy drink._

_Phoenixes really shouldn't drink fizzy drink. They should only drink spring water,_ Fawkes indignantly informed his feathered godmother. He was struggling to be a proper Phoenix and that sadly meant no fizzy drink.

_If he's already made it, it would be improper to refuse_.

Fawkes nodded his head, dismayed that once more he had been in the wrong.

"Can you fly yet?" Malcolm questioned. "Your plumage is quite striking in the tropical sun."

_Not yet, my tail feathers are still too short. _

"Very well," decided Malcolm. "Hop up on my shoulder. Let me explain what I need you to do."

* * *

It took Malcolm a good long walk around the island to settle down Fawkes after he explained his idea. Fawkes had gotten all verklempt and in feathered tizzy over Malcolm's plans on getting the dysfunctional duo back together again.

"He needs the exercise, Fawkes. He's getting quite the pot belly and he's too vain to stand for that! I can't lead him around as well, this is my vacation. I've already given up enough of my holiday to him. He doesn't deserve it all," Malcolm insisted.

_But… but… he's angry with me. He won't want me there!_

"Actually, he's agreed to it. He quite misses you," the courtesan assured the Phoenix.

_No, he's happy to be well rid of bad rubbish._

"No, I have a feeling that he might want you back as his familiar. He might want to feel you out to see if you're interested."

The Phoenix looked so hopefully at Malcolm that St. Rhys felt slightly guilty. Fawkes was almost full grown Phoenix, but yet, Fawkes was still a child in his optimistic naiveté that he could be somehow forgiven by Albus. Truly, Albus was the only one that needed to be forgiven. For being such an utter barmpot among other issues.

_Really_?

"Really, Fawkes. In fact, if you fail to impress on him the fact that he is in dire need of you, well, I'll be your mage."

_Really? You'd be my mage? We could go to __**concerts**__ together! I could have fizzy drink when I'm really good! You won't be disappointed in me! I'll be the best familiar ever! I'll be so well behaved; you won't believe that I'm the same Fawkes! I'll take your messages anywhere you want, as Spaz is a little too old to be globe trotting. You'll get so many new clients as you'll look so striking with me!_

_You'll help me… won't you? Assist me to be the best familiar ever? I have all sorts of bad habits that you'll need to break. But I want to be better! You can help me!_

The Phoenix then tidied up a concerned Malcolm.

Bloody hell, he didn't want Fawkes as a familiar. The offer had been only a sweetener in order to get Fawkes to agree to guide Albus. Albus and Fawkes were a completely matched set of dysfunctional bookends. He'd go around the bend and back again if Fawkes was his familiar.

* * *

A scarlet and gold clad Albus stood up as he was instructed and he deliberately placed the cane in front of him. "Which shoulder?"

A nervous Fawkes looked at Malcolm and then back at Albus.

_Your right as it doesn't hurt? _ The Phoenix timidly offered.

"Wonderful," agreed Albus. "I know you were partial to my left before it was damaged, but I am grateful for your consideration. Fawkes, I appreciate you guiding me about the island. I truly fear that I'll go astray in my head if I stay in bed a moment longer."

"Stand steady," Malcolm warned. "Fawkes is coming to roost."

"You can't fly yet?" questioned a concerned Albus. He turned his face to the familiar who was carefully roosting on his shoulder.

_No. I can't fly yet. _

"Newt assured me that it was normal. He's had his first Burn as a mature Phoenix so flight feather will take a little longer to fill in," explained Malcolm.

"Fawksy! You've finally obtaining your adult plumage! I'm sure you'll look striking!" Albus cheerily assured the Phoenix. "I wish I could see it."

_What's the problem with your eyes?_

"The migraines played havoc with my optical nerves. Should be right as rain in a few," Albus explained.

"I think that a brisk walk to the outlook point would be a great idea. There's a bench there so he can rest," Malcolm assured the duo. "Now, be off with you!"

* * *

Walking with Albus was quite difficult as Fawkes was fearful of guessing wrong with his directions. What if Albus fell because of him? Oh, the shame!

_Thirteen long steps_, he hesitantly suggested when they at last came to their destination. _Then sit down._

"One… two… and thirteen!" Albus announced before he sat down on the bench. "How are you doing? I've been asking about you."

_I'm learning how to be a proper Phoenix! Agni wishes me to be an example of Phoenixy decorum. It's… very… hard…. _Fawkes seriously explained. _I'm a simply dreadful Phoenix. I don't do anything right. Yet, Agni is very tolerant of me. She knows that I'm a faulty Phoenix. I don't mean to be! Agni says that I just don't know any better!_

The Phoenix's mental voice sounded shaky and Albus carefully reached out for the Phoenix. He lovingly brushed Fawkes' bristle feathers.

"I tried to send you some chocolate," Albus softly explained. "I had a big box that I couldn't hope to eat all by myself."

_Phoenixes don't eat chocolate. Agni is very smart! She knows that Phoenixes eat fish, fruit and vegetables. Proper Phoenixes don't drink fizzy drink either! I'm learning so much from her! I will be a Proper Phoenix soon!_

"I suppose that when you'll become a Proper Phoenix that you'll desire to have a Proper Mage. Unless… you want to go with Agni? When she migrates?" Albus asked.

Fawkes was very still.

"Fawksy, do you wish to go with her? By all means, if you desire to do so, do it! Go with my blessings, my bright and beautiful friend!"

_I won't return with her. I don't fit in with her covey. I __**tried**__ and __**tried**__. They don't like chamber music! They don't suck on Acid Pops! I don't belong __**anywhere**__! It would have been better if the dragon had gotten me!_

"_**Fawksy, NO! **_Don't say such things! Don't be a flighty featherbrain. I think I know the perfect solution to your dilemma!" Albus tentatively suggested.

_Malcolm? He's offered._

"Malcolm? You wish to go with Malcolm?" Albus questioned in a trembling voice.

_Do you think I should?_ The Phoenix guilelessly asked_._

"I'd dreadfully miss you," admitted Albus. "But if you'd be happy with him…"

_I guess… no one else wants me. I asked and asked and asked! Nobody wants me!_

An unexpected burst of passion filled Albus' heart.

"I want you! As my familiar! As my best friend! Tell Malcolm to go find his own Phoenix! Let him face a dragon like I did!" Albus insisted. "I'm _**not**_ letting you go!"

An overjoyed Fawkes wept while he nuzzled _**his**_ mage and his healing tears splashed onto Albus' eyes. An emotionally overwhelmed Albus rubbed his eyes to rid them of both his and Fawkes' tears. To his delight, he realized that he could see once more.

Everything was at last, crystal clear, to Albus.

"Fawksy! What a handsome fellow you are!" He told his elated familiar.

* * *

Malcolm plopped a strawberry into a bowl and offered it to Agni while Fawke's exuberant Phoenix song filled the air. The two instigators, human and Phoenix, smiled in delight. All was good and proper in their world. Albus and Fawkes were once more together as mage and familiar.

"And those two barking souls are once again together," stated Malcolm. "They're such a perfect match."

_He wouldn't have been happy in the covey. Fawkes has been corrupted by the world of men. Or by Albus.  
_

"Fizzy drink, m'lady?" Malcolm offered. He gave her a very sly smile.

_Perhaps, a sip might not be inappropriate. The fruit is fresh and the little one is truly fond of the drink. I should taste it so I can understand his fascination._

The two souls toasted each other and their barmy friends.


	12. Chapter 12

Synopsis: We left Albus on a tropical island where he was resting and relaxing.

* * *

While Albus was delighted to be recovering in his tropical paradise with Fawkes, he did have one pressing issue.

Malcolm.

Or, as he was also known, el-Hamal Arietis Black Vance St. Rhys.

For there was no doubt in Albus' mind that the courtesan was deliberately avoiding him. It was a rather small island, as he walked the length and breadth of it several times a day for exercise. Fawkes was given a small container of 'phoenixy fizzy drink' at their evening meals that the Phoenix swore was made by Malcolm.

So, it seemed Malcolm WAS on the island at some time.

Because Albus was attempting to demonstrate that he understood the magnitude of his mistake of utilizing his magic on Malcolm, he didn't attempt to Locate the other mage. Albus did leave a few notes for Malcolm, asking if they might meet for brunch? Apologetic, heartfelt notes that were opened and then discarded.

Finny Black visited him, bearing copious amounts of multicolored scrolls and piles of parchment. The barrister seemed inordinately pleased with himself.

"Hope you don't mind, but I've elected myself your counselor. You're in dire need of legal advice," Finny informed him.

"I'm being sued?" Albus asked. He rubbed his temples and sighed. Wonderful. Exactly what he needed.

"Do you have a headache?" Was Phineas' immediate question.

"Just tired," was all Albus would admit.

"Well, you're not being sued. In fact, my dear Albus Dumbledore, you are in the unique position of claiming overdue rewards from nineteen… oops, my pardon, actually twenty-three magical, legal entities. For your defeat of You Know Who."

"Refusal to say a name only gives it power," Albus retorted. "Gellert Grindlewald."

"Very well, when you defeated Gellert, you earned a fairly substantial reward. Having elected myself your legal representative based on the incident at Hogwarts, I have gently reminded the twenty-three various agencies that you have not been paid. They're in a tough financial position, Albus, what with the rebuilding of most of Magical Europe, repatriation of the various displaced souls…."

"I don't want the…" protested Albus.

"Don't say it! They might have bespelled the reward if you spoke such heresy! This is what I'm suggesting. It is a rather substantial amount, so perhaps they could pay you in installments. You'd never have to teach another student again. You could live a life of financially secure leisure…of scholarship…supplemented by yearly annuities of the money owed." Finny explained.

"I enjoy teaching. I find that I miss it," protested Albus. While he enjoyed his tropical respite, Dumbledore found that he also missed teaching. Miss McGonagall was close to completing her animagus training. He should be there, proudly beaming, when they wrote her name in the Ledger of Registered Animagi!

"You could have a home, Albus. Not a suite of rooms at Hogwarts, an honest to God house that is yours," explained Finny. "Don't give up the money just yet."

"I could build a manor house to put the Malfoys to shame, but if I have no one to share it with besides Fawkes? It will mean nothing to me," Albus explained.

Finny sighed and then ran his hands through his thick, curly hair. He seemed to be mentally debating an issue and then made his decision.

"You have more than enough money to buy out someone's contract," Black softly explained. "It is not unheard of, for a _cortigiana onesta_ of Malcolm's stature to have a permanent patron, one that does not like to share…He is getting older…he might desire to retire…you could provide him with a comfortable lifestyle… It is done, Albus, but discreetly and tastefully. As your representative, I can talk to Esme and ask her. Malcolm might be growing weary of his occupation. He's made comments to me in the past that make me believe that."

For a brief moment of absolute insanity, Albus imagined buying out Malcolm's contract, putting him up in a nice manor house… or even a cozy cottage. The joy of coming home from a term at Hogwarts to find Malcolm waiting for him. The rare night out; to enjoy a concert of chamber music. Nights of love, days of happiness.

Perhaps, even Malcolm's granddaughter might visit. The house would be full of noise and laughter, life and love.

Then sanity returned along with a headache.

"I can't make any decisions right now with money I do not currently posses, but I believe that buying out Malcolm's contract would not be the right thing. He doesn't particularly _**like**_ me now."

"Tosh!" was Finny's inelegant response.

"Just figure out exactly how much they supposedly owe me, and get back to me. Perhaps you can locate some reputable charities that might need the money; I know the Sinti were particularly besieged by both Gellert and Hitler. They must be in need of something... " Albus decided. He didn't want the bloody money, maybe some good would come of it if he gave it all away.

There was no use pretending that his head didn't hurt.

"I need to lie down," requested Albus. "I have a headache. It's just come on. Is Fawkes nearby?"

"No, he went to get me," said a familiar voice. "Now, close your eyes, Albus."

"Malcolm?" Albus asked. It could only be his voice, but still Albus wished to be certain.

"Yes, it's me. You need to take a sip of Headache-be-Gone potion and then my rapscallion of a brother and I will put you to bed. Fawksy can't yet fly to England to get a Healer, so Finny will have to pop over."

"Absolutely," agreed Finny. "I'll 'pop' in to see Matron Maloney."

The two Black Brothers helped him to his bed though Albus protested. He could make it under his own power! Yet, he was trembling from exhaustion by the time he reached his bed. Fawkes was being a right nuisance, hovering over him, and Albus plaintively requested that he behave.

_Your head hurts,_ Fawkes crooned.

"Fawksy, let us get Albus into his jimjams and then we'll tuck you two in."

A barely audible pop announced that Phineas Black had Disapparated away and then Albus found himself expertly stripped, dressed in jimjams and tucked in. Per Malcolm's instructions, Albus took several mouthfuls of Headache-Be-Gone.

"I've… missed… you," confessed a contrite Albus. "I'm quite apologetic…"

"I have needed some time alone to think, love," explained Malcolm

"Finny informs me that I've come into a great deal of money," Albus murmured. Truly, he was loopy from the potion as he was rather verbose. His thoughts were not even the slightest bit censored, they were just pouring from his mouth. "I thought for a moment that I could buy out your contract, put you in a little cottage with roses around the door. No crup though as I can't stand their incessant barking, plus they insist on sleeping on the bed. Keep you all for me…I briefly thought to find out how much it would be."

"Did you now," was Malcolm's noncommittal response. He carefully began to stroke Albus' temples.

"I fear that I'm quite smitten with you," admitted Albus. "Good sense returned and I realized how wrong it would be to purchase you like you were a commodity. You don't even like me… how could I hope to tie you to me?"

"I _**do**_ like you, that is exactly why I was so angry," Malcolm explained. "Now, go to sleep, love. You'll be feeling better before long."

"I love you," murmured a drowsy Albus.

Malcolm continued to stroke Albus' hair until the greatest mage since Merlin was deeply asleep.

"Oh, you silly, silly berk," Malcolm whispered. "You had to go and fall in love with me. I hate when my clients do that. While it would be tempting to be your kept toy, you'd grow bored of me soon enough."

Malcolm softly sighed.

"I've been through it before, Albus. The bloom of your sexual enthusiasm will fade almost immediately and you'll want someone proper in your life."

* * *

Matron Maloney assured a concerned Fawkes that Albus was having a plain, regular, old fashioned tension headache. And then, she patiently reassured the frantic Phoenix a few more times.

"Just let him sleep," Maloney ordered the Phoenix. "He'll be right as rain when he wakes."

_Promise_? The worried Fawkes plaintively asked.

"Fawkes," Malcolm gently chastised the familiar. "The longer she's here, the more likely Albus's rest will be disturbed by the hullabaloo. Let her go."

Fawkes nodded his head in understanding and then he made himself comfortable on a big, fluffy pillow right next to his sleeping mage. While Maloney had promised Fawkes that Albus would be fine when he woke, he still guarded Albus.

Just in case.

Malcolm decided that Fawkes had the correct idea about turning in, so he, in turn, made himself comfortable in the chaise lounge next to the bed. He didn't allow himself to fall asleep; instead he debated how to handle the delicate situation with Albus.

"Careful, my boy. You don't want him to hex off your nethers in a fit of pique," Malcolm reminded himself.

888888888888888888888

Albus slept until mid-afternoon. He slowly woke and then delightedly realized that _**Malcolm**_ was sitting in the room with him. The courtesan was dozing, a book in his lap, and Fawkes happily chirped.

_No, no, don't wake him._

_Malcolm said that I had to wake him if he was sleeping when you woke. _

Malcolm had a lovely stretch and then opened his eyes. He gave Albus a warm smile when St. Rhys realized that he was awake.

"Good afternoon, sleeping beauty. The sun has long since risen, and you are still in bed. Get your feet on the floor and your arse out of bed, so you can have brunch. I made your favorites," Malcolm cajoled him.

"Let me freshen up," Albus requested.

"Be quick, or I'll feed it all to Fawkes, who is a growing boy," teased Malcolm.

The Phoenix chirped once more and Albus smiled. All was right in his world, Fawkes was in fine form and Malcolm was once more talking to him.

"After you eat, Albus, let's go for a walk," Malcolm suggested. "A little exercise is good for the digestion and I really need to watch my waist line."

"I think your waist line is quite splendid," protested Albus.

Malcolm dimpled a smile and Albus' heart skipped a beat at the sight. Why must Malcolm be so damn charming, it was simply impossible for Albus to think straight!

* * *

Albus and Malcolm started walking together and before long, Albus shyly clasped Malcolm's hand. He wished to be bold, but was uncertain of the propriety. Malcolm wasn't under hire… yet… he was here, wasn't he?

"Let's not walk too far, love," Malcolm admonished him. "You're still recovering. Any place in particular you'd like to stroll?"

"As long as it's with you, I'll go anywhere," blurted Albus. He flushed then, knowing that he sounded like a horribly gauche schoolboy.

"So sweet, my Albus is," was Malcolm's response.

They walked a short ways in companionable silence, hand in hand and then Malcolm motioned to a private spot.

"Let's sit there," he suggested. "We can talk and enjoy the ocean breeze."

Albus felt slightly uneasy at Malcolm's tone, but he soon joined Malcolm in taking pleasure in the magnificent view. The older man put his arm around Albus before he gave him a warm smile.

"We need to talk, love."

"Must we?" protested Albus. "Can we not do other, more pleasant things?"

"Yes, we must. Albus, you mentioned some things yesterday…"

Albus' smile froze as he didn't remember much of yesterday. Finny, a headache… and then a few sips of headache potion. Oh no… had he said something inappropriate?

"And I spoke at length with Finny also. Albus, love, you're a sweet soul. I will always be deeply honored by your desire to buy out my contract…"

A mortified Albus attempted to pull away, but Malcolm refused to let him.

"But you deserve better, love. I know right now, that you believe that you are in love with me."

"I am!" was Albus' strong objection. "I've never felt this way about anyone, not Elphias… not even… _him_."

"Albus… I do not doubt that you truly mean it. You believe that you're in love with me, but right now, you're infatuated. You've had a wonderful weekend, you've had truly fantastic sex repeatedly… and you're _**smitten**_. What you're feeling isn't love, Albus," the courtesan gently explained.

"You don't believe that I know what love is? That I'm letting my base physical needs overwhelm my good sense? What I feel for you, Malcolm, is unlike anything I have _**ever**_ felt," protested Albus. "For _**anyone**_. You make me _**happy**_, Malcolm."

'I'm so glad that I've given you happiness, Albus. You're a remarkable mage, but you've endured a rather traumatic series of events. You needed a good experience so you could heal the pain in your soul. I gave it to you, and I can't let you be beholden to me. Go spread your wings, Albus," Malcolm said. "Fly free, Albus."

"But…" Albus murmured a protest.

"Albus, in the fairy tales, a damaged soul always falls in love with his healer. They get married and live happily ever after. It doesn't happen like that in real life, love. You'd swiftly grow bored with me, Albus. You'd want a proper gentleman, someone respectable to show off to your friends… and this fondness between us; it would grow brittle and fade from the strain. I want to leave you with happy memories, Albus, the type that will cause you to smile when you look back on them. I don't want to give you reminders of how you wasted your precious time on a physical fling that we _**both**_ know can't go anywhere," the courtesan explained. "Also, I know from personal experience, how quickly feelings of infatuation can fade."

A sad smile as though Malcolm found those memories particularly painful. There was a painful truth in Malcolm's words but Albus Dumbledore refused to listen.

Did not want this to end.

Could not bear to return back to his gray and lonely life before Malcolm.

"I'm gay, Malcolm. I don't think that I'll be squiring anyone around in public," protested Albus. "I'd like someone to come home to. Long nights by the fire, listening to music. Perhaps, teas in the afternoon and long walks on the beach."

"You'll find someone, Albus. It just won't be me. You'll find someone who appreciates you as the special man you are. One day, you can tell him all about me, and you'll both be happy that you didn't pine away for me," Malcolm said.

"I've come into some money, according to your nefarious brother," Albus timidly began. "I might be even able to pay your fee."

Malcolm gave him a gentle smile and shook his head.

"Would you agree to see me, Malcolm, every once in a while? I would hate to completely lose you. You see me as Albus… and that's so rare," requested a heartbroken Albus. "I come so far in this time with you; I don't want to go back to what I once was."

Dumbledore was so forlorn that Malcolm broke his cardinal rule of self-preservation; never ever take on a client who was in love with you.

"Contact Esme in June, and we'll discuss your summer plans," was all Malcolm offered. "I'm quite sure your feelings will fade by then."

Albus privately doubted that they would, but he'd take what he could.

"Can we correspond during the next few months?" Albus questioned. "Fawkes will quite miss you."

"We'll figure it out," was Malcolm's answer. "I'd hate for Fawkes to be unhappy. But we still have time in the here and now, Albus. You're not ready to leave for Hogwarts, yet, and we'll see what happens."

Albus gave Malcolm a shy smile and then he buzzed him on his cheek.

"Thank you."

* * *

_**Epilogue:**_

Severus Snape did not wish to go to Albus Dumbledore's private Christmas party.

Yes, Voldemort was dead, and so was Lily Evans.

Christmas meant nothing for him. How could the magical and muggle worlds be celebrating the birth of a child when the mother was forgotten? But it was his first year teaching at Hogwarts and Albus had insisted he attend. Therefore, Severus had decided it was necessary to be present at this idiocy.

Filius was in charge of the school, though he was also attending the party. There was some sort of Charms involved so the Charms Master could be both here and there, but Severus felt disinclined to investigate it further. He met the rest of his fellow instructors… what a crock… as he not considered an instructor by any other of the staff members…No, he was Albus' Pet Death Eater. He met them in Albus' office and Minerva gave him a quick smile. He didn't return it, as the bleakness of the season had filled his heart.

"We're Flooing to Albus' home, Severus. Filius will be using a Time Turner so he can be both here and there to oversee the school. If there's an issue involving your House, he'll get you involved," Minerva explained.

She grasped him by his forearm and pulled his unwillingly form towards the Floo.

"Horace promised to attend, so you two can catch up," she explained.

Oh yes, as Severus and Horace had been particularly chummy when he was a student.

_**Not.**_

"Min, you did warn Severus about Albus' associate?" Filius questioned. The Charms Master was looking eye blindingly festive, a literal Christmas Elf.

"Oh dear, I almost forget. Severus, Albus' partner will be there, so don't act surprised. They've been together for so long that I've forgotten that it's not common knowledge," Minerva explained. "His name is Malcolm and he's quite the flirt. He's the only one I know that can cause Albus to stammer and blush. It's really rather sweet."

"Malcolm?" Severus dryly questioned.

"Yes, Albus plays for the other Quidditch team. You didn't know that?" Minerva asked.

"No," admitted Severus. There had been rumors, but nothing concrete. The Slytherins that had been the ones most likely to know about Albus' sexual bent had steadfastly refused to discuss the matter. If Cissy and Bella Black hadn't heard the faintest whispers through their social connections, then it simply couldn't be true.

"I'm sure Albus will introduce you. He's quite charming," Minerva said. There was a redness to her cheeks that Severus thought quite amusing.

"Are you blushing?" Severus dryly commented.

"It's the heat from the fire," protested Minerva.

With that last comment, they then arrived via Floo at Albus' home. Albus was another soul who enjoyed Christmas a bit too much. The Headmaster was wearing an outfit that looked like nothing more than a walking Christmas tree what with all his spangles and doodads. Truly, Albus should act his age, his physical if not his mental, Severus thought. There was a slightly taller man next to him. He had blue eyes and short cropped white hair and thankfully, he was not ostentatiously dressed. No, he wore a proper suit and matching waist coast.

"Minerva," the stranger purred. "So lovely to see you again. You look… magnificent."

With a grace that Severus couldn't believe, the stranger brought Minerva's hand to his lips and he kissed it.

"Malcolm, you shouldn't flirt in front of Albus," Minerva protested.

"I like it when he gets jealous," Malcolm teased. He winked at Severus and Severus stepped back. "A little jealousy can spice up a relationship."

"Don't worry, Severus. He's mainly harmless," Albus informed the Potions Master.

Somehow, Dumbledore the walking Christmas tree had snuck up behind him. Truly, Severus needed to be more aware of his environment. He'd never survive five minutes in Hogsmeade if he let _**ALBUS DUMBLEDORE**_ walk up to him. Too many of the Dark Lord followers still survived, claiming that they were innocent as they had been Imperiod…

"I'm quite glad that you're here, Severus. Come with me," Albus commanded.

It was a suggestion spoken in the mildest of tones, but Severus knew it to be a decree.

They walked in silence for a bit, and then Albus motioned for him to sit. They were in a private nook and Albus briefly smiled at Severus' discomfort.

"Severus, you're far too young for me. I'm not trying to seduce you," Albus gently commented. "I just wanted to thank you for coming to the party. I'm glad to see that you decided to attend."

Decided, Severus felt like laughing. Order. Commanded. _**Required**_.

"I know this holiday will be particularly difficult for you. The first holiday after the loss of a loved one…"

"Don't," Severus growled.

"Is particularly hard. I know from personal experience," Albus assured him.

"I find it hard to believe. How long have you and Malcolm been together? Two hundred years or so?" Severus snapped.

"No. Once upon a time, I knew someone like you…" Albus explained. "He loved deeply…"

Severus attempted to hide his anger.

"Let me tell you about a much younger mage," Albus began to explain. "And this is the story of how he found love after thoroughly convincing himself that he didn't deserve it. He didn't merit friendship and he certainly wasn't worthy of more. Fortunately, he met someone who quite disagreed with his personal philosophy. As you young people quaintly say, it's how I got my groove back."

* * *

Thank you for reading how _Albus Got His Groove Back._ Many thanks to MM for her suggestions. She was quite insistent that I give Albus a happy ending.

Also in the world of Not Willing to Admit, DH never happened. Never did. Never Will.

'


End file.
